


Coming Back, Broken.

by FabiusMaximus



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: All aboard the trauma train!, Family Relationships - Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:23:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 42
Words: 55,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabiusMaximus/pseuds/FabiusMaximus
Summary: Six months after they entered the Darklands, Jim and Claire have returned with Enrique. But getting back is not the same thing as putting their experiences behind them.  There are secrets, secrets about what they did in the Darklands that may destroy them...





	1. Back into the Light

Barbara barely slept anymore. Not since she’d been told what had happened, how she  had been involved in a world of trolls— _trolls_ and magic, only to be cursed by Strickler and lost her memory. Everyone was commenting on her tired eyes, with her supervisors suggesting she take more time off. Especially since her boyfriend had vanished at the same time as her son. 

Her former boyfriend. _You can really pick_ _’em, Barbara._ And now her son and his girlfriend had left, into some place called the Darklands, to recover Claire’s brother.

_Had_ left. Nearly 6 months ago. And then Queen Usurna had demanded that the Killahead bridge be demolished.  It had been,but Vendel had ensured that the fragments had not been lost, and Blinky, Toby and Draal were up to something. What it was, they were vague on.

“I do not wish to raise false hopes,” Vendel had told her. He’d told the Nunez's that as well. Toby had been reluctant to tell Claire’s parents, but Barbara put her foot down. They deserved to know. They all deserved to know, and that included Toby’s grandmother. The Nunez’s deserved to know that there was some chance that their daughter might return to them, instead of spending every night wandering whether or not Claire had fallen prey to some sex trafficker or had just been murdered and her body left for the  coyotes.

The fact that she started crying, and then screaming hysterically during the lecture had swayed Toby. Barbara shook her head at the image.  Swayed and terrified him.

_Fight trolls, still freaked out about an adult losing it._ Apparently, adults weren’t supposed to lose it like that.

_She—_ the phone beeped, and there was a message. GET HERE, GOING TO GET C&J.  Right behind that was a Google Maps point.

Barbara was at the door, texting Ophelia, almost before the last letter appeared.

 

* * *

 

One wild ride later (it turned out that Javier had been a street racer in his younger days) and they were at the location of the bridge. The bridge was gleaming with eldritch energy, but nobody was there. Barbara had her medical bag, while the others had flashlights, just in case they had to wait until full night.

“Why isn’t there any—” Barbara’s question turned into a shriek as a gyre _burst_ through the gate, the bridge collapsing into rubble around it.

Barbara stared, as the gyre ended up leaning against a rocky wall, while people and trolls got out of it.

People.

Two people in particular. Jim and Claire.

“Jim!  Claire!” She and Claire’s parents ran forward, but suddenly stopped. There was something about the two—when they’d heard them coming they’d suddenly spun around, back to back, Jim’s blade and Claire’s staff out and ready. 

It was then that Barbara started to get a good look at them. Jim’s body was covered in his armor, but his face…  there were bruises on it, what looked like old bloodstains, and Claire…

Barbara had to admit, Claire had always struck her as the sort of stylish teen who wouldn’t be caught dead in anything but her best clothes.

But now… She had a _breastplate_ on, not one of the Hollywood boobplate designs that made a woman look like she was about to fall over. No, it was functional, smoothly curved…and scarred. A skirt, made out of some kind of leather, stopped where Claire’s old skirt had stopped, evidently intended to protect her without depriving her of the ability to move.

And she was bruised as well. Barbara heard Ophelia and Javier gasp as they took in their daughter. One of her legs was actually splinted, and she could see the stained purple fabric of Claire’s shirt, used as bandages, rods of some material bracing the leg. Her visible arm also had bandages on it, old blood on the fabric and Barbara shuddered as she thought about what type of infections you could get from that.

_Wait, if her leg is broken or fractured_ _… how in God’s name is she even_ standing? Jim looked like he was favoring his side, and God knew what other injuries they had. But…

Claire shook her head and adjusted the bundle held in her free arm. “Mom, Dad?”  she said in a voice that sounded rough. “Here’s Enrique. We got him back.” The infant cooed from inside his nest, waving one chubby hand.

“Oh… _Oh_ _…_ ” Ophelia reached out to touch her son, then took her from Claire’s hand. “He’s…  You…” Barbara had been present for Ophelia’s rants on what she was going to say to her child, but now they all seemed to desert her.

“We got…” Claire smiled. But then she and Jim both were swaying. “Got him back… Got back…”

And then the two teens collapsed onto the ground.


	2. Examinations and Evaluations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at Trollmarket, it's time to find out just how badly our intrepid heroes have suffered...

Barbara was by their sides in a moment. Toby was next to Jim, reaching out to shake him. She slapped his hand away as the armor dissipated. “No, Toby. Not until we’re certain of their injuries.”

“They were doing fine!” Toby said, his voice strained. “You should have seen them going through the G—”

“Adrenalin.” Nomura was kneeling by Claire, Claire’s mother and father sharing a worried look. “They have been running on that and nothing else. Gunmar captured them three weeks ago.”

“But—when we found—” Toby gestured at Claire’s armor.

“Gunmar let them escape, he thought he could break the Trollhunter’s will if he recaptured them. They were preparing to…” Nomura’s voice trailed off. “To not be taken again when you rescued us.”

“Jim’s pulse is okay, but he’s…” _Thin._ _“_ Let me check Claire. “

That proved a little more difficult.

“Careful,” Nomura cautioned. “Some of those daggers are poisoned.”

And Claire had daggers. Daggers and _more_.  Two short swords were strapped to her back, there were throwing knives, daggers on her legs, metal spikes loosely secured to her wrists… Barbara couldn’t help the way her eyes widened as the pile of deadly implements grew. Finally, Claire was disarmed and they managed to pull the breastplate off of her.

Ophelia gave a choked whimper as she saw her daughter’s torso. Claire’s face had been gaunt, but her chest—there were patterns of bruises, old and new on it, and her ribs stood out, skin stretched over them.  Her bra had been replaced by a simple cloth band, stained and ragged, but Barbara didn’t care about that. Those bruises indicated beatings—a large number of them. Finally, to add to the horror, it looked like Claire had also braced her left forearm from some injury. 

“Her pulse is okay as well—we need to get them to the infirmary in Trollmarket.” When they’d first realized what they were in for, the three parents had set up an infirmary in Trollmarket.

 

  _“If Claire and Jim are hurt, and they just appear…” Ophelia had said, nervously plucking at her sleeve. “What if there are changelings at the hospital? If I couldn’t tell the difference in my own child…”_

_“Got that right,” NotEnrique had said. “It wouldn’t take much more than an oopsie with some drugs, and no more Trollhunter or Sis.”_

And so with Blinky’s help and Vendel’s grudging approval, they’d moved a two-bed infirmary into Trollmarket, stocked with everything Barbara thought she might need. It was amazing what you could buy when you had friends who considered gold a mildly pretty decorative material. Now, they loaded Jim and Claire into the car. Nomura and Draal were going to stay and finish wrecking the bridge, while the others made their way to Trollmarket.

_Please be okay, Jim._ Barbara thought as she lay her son out in the lowered seats of the van, brushing his matted hair away from his grimy and bruised face.

* * *

 

Inside Trollmarket, the humans and trolls quickly brought the two children to their impromptu medical bay. More than a few trolls saw them, murmurs of dismay and curiosity filling the great cave.

“Put Jim down there,” Barbara directed. They were still unconscious, which wasn’t a great sign. _I wish Nomura was here_. She wanted to _talk_ to the changeling, then possibly hit her over the head, but Blinky had warned that Nomura’s greeting in Trollmarket would likely be violent, so she would stay up top, talking to Draal. Hopefully about what had happened to them.  Javier, Toby and Blinky were with Jim, so Barbara quickly pulled the curtain around the bed as Ophelia started cutting away Claire’s clothes, gasping with every new bruise or cut revealed. Her hair had been raggedly cut, and there were bruises on her face and scalp.

_Old, thank God_. That at least indicated that nothing _immediately_ deadly was likely to happen with her brain. She rolled Claire’s eyelid back and checked it and the pupil response was normal. Good sign. For some values of good.

“Oh _Dios Mio_ _…”_ Ophelia said as she cut the breast band away. “She’s skin and bones!”

Barbara put her hand on Ophelia’s.  “We planned for this, remember? I trained you and the others. But this is the first time it’s been real. Can you assist, or do you need to sit down?” Her voice was absolutely calm. _This is not Claire. That is not Jim. They are patients.  I will cure them to the best of my ability. I can fall apart after that._

“I—I can help.”

“Good. They’re both severely dehydrated. Get me the IV bag, please.” Barbara waited until Ophelia brought the bag, carefully searching for a vein that she could run the IV into. Finding it, she slipped it in, adjusting the flow of the IV. “Wait here, I’m going to do the same for Jim.  Check her cuts and clean them. Call me if you see any deep injuries we missed.”

In Jim’s bed, Blinky and Javier had pulled off all his clothes, leaving him nude.

“Doc—” Toby said, blushing on her son’s behalf.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Barbara said.

“I ran the IV,” Javier said. Barbara nodded, checking Jim in the light. Like Claire, he had lost a good deal of weight, his ribs sticking out, his face gaunt. His body was patterned with bruises and a there was slice across his face. The armor didn’t protect you from blunt force trauma it seemed or perhaps Jim had been beaten when he wasn’t wearing it. There was a darker grouping of bruise patterns by his right ribcage. Barbara gently probed it, and even unconscious, Jim hissed.

“Hand me the portable X-ray.” Moments later, she sighed in relief. “Two fractured ribs. It doesn’t look too bad, and definitely didn’t penetrate the lung.” That would have been a cue to get Jim to the hospital, regardless of the danger. _Of course these are new injuries—what about earlier injuries?_

“Barbara?” 

“Yes, Ophelia?”

“Am I doing this right? None of these wounds look… Infected.”

“Let me check.”

“Humans have not been in the Darklands, save for familiars, since Gunmar was exiled there.” Blinky was adjusting Jim’s pillows, his eyes focused on his job. “Perhaps no germs were there to harm them?”

“If so, they were lucky. The wounds are dressed, but they didn’t have sterile dressings and if they’d hit an infection—given their current condition…” Barbara shook her head. “Never mind, they’re here now, and infection is a _real_ danger. Clean them, dress them and bandage them.”

“They’re not waking up—why?” Toby asked, face pale. He’d held together, but Barbara had a feeling she needed to get him sitting down soon.

“Nomura said they were awake and on the run for three days before we arrived,” Draal said as he entered the chamber. “Let them sleep. They’re not Trolls.”

Barbara bit her lip and nodded. “If that’s the case—Javier, Ophelia, help me set up the monitors.” Quickly, disposable sensor stickers were put on Jim and Claire’s bodies and their respective machines started beeping.  Barbara looked at the readouts for a moment, before nodding. “Good. Now let me check Claire’s arm and leg.”

It didn’t take long for her to sigh. “Minor fractures. We can get them fully treated once they’re awake.”

“Minor fracture…” Javier stared at his daughter. “I got one and they told me to stay off my feet for weeks… She was…”

“It would have been… Painful.” Barbara didn’t want to say anything else. Claire’s parents looked horrified enough.

“Nuh…” Jim made a sound.

“Jim?”  Barbara asked. “Are you—” his head thrashed around, then Claire started doing the same thing. “They’re both unconscious—what’s disturb…”  Suddenly,  AAARRRGGHH!! Picked up Barbara and moved her to the side, ignoring her squawk. Then he pulled the privacy curtain aside, before pushing the two beds together. Jim flailing hand somehow found Claire’s, the two teens gripping each other tightly. Then, with a soft sigh, their bodies relaxed.

“Nobody else. Only them in Darklands,” the troll explained.

“Thank you, my friend,” Blinky said. “Barbara, what else can we do?”

“We need to let them rehydrate and rest. If they were truly awake for three days…” Barbara nodded. “No. They wouldn’t be coherent enough to help if we woke them up right now. We can monitor their rehydration  and vitals without waking them up. Let me check Enrique now, but I don’t think we need a bed for that.”

“Then let us adjourn,” a new voice intruded. Vendel leaned on his substitute staff looking at them all what Barbara had coined his “Why Did God Send You to Plague Me” gaze. “All of Trollmarket knows of the Trollhunter’s return—and his condition. The rumors are breeding as we speak, and _I would_ prefer to get ahead of them.”

 


	3. Chat's with Vendel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vendel isn't very happy at the condition of his Trollhunter.

“I am hoping you did not allow Gunmar out,” Vendel said. There were chairs across the chamber—but close enough to let the parents keep monitoring their children. Barbara finished checking Enrique and gave a quick thumbs up to his parents. “The stories of Trollmarket agree upon one thing, the Trollhunter did not return in triumph.”

“Why don’t they fight their own fucking fights!” Javier said.

“Would you be eager to fight the devil?” Vendel stared at the smaller man. “For that is what Gunmar is to trolls—the devil, who can strip the will and mind from your closest, oldest, friend or mate, and send them against you.” Vendel sighed. “And of course, due to our age, we remember it. Far better than any human can.” He paused. “And we did not exactly ask for the Trollhunter.”

“Yes, I remember Draal telling us how he almost _killed_ my son and _did_ humiliate him before he even knew how to use the sword.” Barbara had forgiven Draal, but seeing Jim like that, so _small_ in the bed, had brought back her memories of dreaming of what might have happened.

“Vendel, Javier, Barbara,” Blinky said. “We have said these things before, and they always end up where we started. Master Jim is the Trollhunter and there is no way to change that, short of his death. Let us focus on the demands of the day.”

“Yes. Gunmar did not leave. The bridge was guarded…” Vendel said. “Correct?”

“Ah…” Draal looked anywhere but Vendel.

_Fuck it._ Barbara shook her head. “Draal was already in when we arrived, but nothing came out until they returned.”

“So there was a period when the bridge was unobserved…” Vendel rubbed his horns. “The Council is already angry…”

“Well, the Council can wait it’s turn,” Ophelia said. “Our—”

“Mama…” Claire’s voice drifted from the bed.

Ophelia ran to her. “Claire? Claire?” 

Claire sighed, eyes closed. Barbara looked down at her. “She’s talking in her sleep, I think.”

“Enrique… Safe… Where is he?”

“Enrique’s here,” Ophelia said, lowering the child towards Claire’s face.

“Gotta… Change…”  her words trailed off into soft mumbles.

“Claire?  Claire!” Jim said, shifting uneasily. “Are you… Here… Safe.” He fell back into the bedding and sighed once, hand still gripping Claire’s hand.

“They’ll be like this for a while,” Barbara said. “But the Trollhunter isn’t going to be marching anywhere!” That last was directed at Vendel.

“I know,” Vendel said. “Contrary to most opinions, Barbara Lake, I respect your son. If he has made errors, none of them stemmed from cowardice or greed. The same follows for Claire, with the added pleasure of speaking to someone who truly enjoys learning about our culture.”  He shook his head. “But even the chance that Gunmar has returned will cause fear and panic. You are a doctor, and you’ve seen what happens to fleshbags when they’re frightened. The same applies to trolls.”

“It won’t change the fact that Jim and Claire will take months to physically recover.” Barbara frowned. Most trolls, with the exception of sunlight, were tremendously durable—and that tended to bleed over into a lack of understanding that humans _weren_ _’t._

“I may have something that can assist with that.” Vendel held out a bag. “We never had much cause to use it, but well, trolls seldom throw things away. This is an ancient Gumm Gumm powder, designed to assist in the regaining of body and muscle mass. It will not _cure_ their ailments outright but it will dramatically increase their healing rate and their replenishment of nutrients.”

Barbara looked at it, deeply suspicious. _I bet trolls never heard of the FDA._

“I thought Gumm Gumms didn’t like people,” Toby said.

“In their tongue, using this on humans is known as, ah, fattening the cows.”

“Ick.” Barbara held it away from her. “Long-term consequences?”

“Those who escaped before they found their way to the dinner table lived long and healthy lives—at least as long and healthy as your Middle Ages allowed.”

“I’ll think about it,” Barbara said. “But not until they’re fully conscious so we can monitor any changes.”

“I would expect nothing less. For now, I will attempt to keep the rest of the trolls, or Merlin help you, Usurna from intruding. But I cannot stop it forever.”

“Thank you, Vendel.” Barbara regarded the bag with deep suspicion.

“Now, I will leave you to tend to your offspring…”  Vendel turned and left. Blinky frowned for a moment, then walked after Vendel.

“What was that about?” Ophelia said.

“I don’t know…” _Blinky didn_ _’t look overly happy…_

* * *

 

“Vendel!” Blinky snapped. “Slow up, you old goat!”

“Blinkeous.”  Vendel turned to him. “I thought you would be looking for my staff?”

“Errr… yes. Well, That’s not what I’m here for. I know what you gave Barbara, and why didn’t you tell her about _how_ that substance was made!”

“Because she wouldn’t have used it. The Trollhunter and his consort need to recover. If your memory is failing you, remember that _Gatto_ is also on the council, and you haven’t endeared yourselves to him, have you?  This will be bad enough without them both looking like a gnome could knock them over.” Vendel sighed. “And yes, Barbara will no doubt strike me with her broom when she finds out that the potion includes human remains, but those humans died a thousand years ago. Their children are dead, their grand children, and so on. Besides, if they _did_ have any say in the matter, wouldn’t they prefer to do something to _hurt_ the Gumm Gumms?”

“Barbara will not see it that way.”

“No human will. They are so…”  Vendel shook his head. “Fastidious about some things. I confess, sometimes I wonder if I will _ever_ understand them.”

 

 


	4. Bath Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Claire having their first post-Darklands bath, while the parents start to learn a little more about their experiences.

Jim woke up, slowly, the darkness trying to pull him down again. But, blinking his eyes against the light, he realized…

“I’m not in the Darklands.” He remembered the fight, the last desperate run, their fina—No. Don’t remember that. Just look up to see the mellow light of Trollmarket, to feel the emanations of the Heartstone. As a human he had never really noticed it—not until now. Now until he was _out_ of the Darklands. Out of the land of night, a land where it seemed that the very stones were trying to leach their lives away. You could build a fire so great that your skin blistered and it still wouldn’t defeat that chill.

The difference was like night and day, the gentle warmth of the air permeating his body.

It also made him aware of how much he _hurt_. Every bone, every muscle ached, from the pain of his ribs to the old injury he’d taken in the first week. Everything hurt.

“Cl-Claire?” Jim asked, and felt a small hand squeeze his. He raised his head, with difficulty, looking over to see Claire looking back at him, her face drawn, exhausted.

Beautiful.

“We made it,” Claire said.

“You two sleepyheads up?” Another voice. A voice he’d never dreamed of hearing again. “M-mom?” Jim asked. Suddenly he felt his eyes fill with moisture, looking up at the wavering figure of his Mom. He could see the trickles of fluid making their way down her cheeks.

“The same, Jim. We’re going to have words about you and Claire invading Hell without telling us.” She laughed, looking over at Mr. And Mrs. Nunez as they spoke to Claire. “But first…” She gestured. “Your fractures are healed enough that we can risk a bath for both of you—cleaning that grime off will be good before we finish with the casts.”

A bath? A _bath?_ Jim tried to get up, thinking of real, warm water, but Barbara held him down for a moment. “Wait until we get a privacy screen up for the baths. You and Claire aren’t going to be wearing any clothes, remember?”

“So?” Jim asked, confused. His mother blinked, looked shocked. Then he realized what she was saying. “Oh, Mr. And Mrs. Nunez. Thanks, Mom, that’d be pretty embarrassing.” Then he looked around. “Where’s Toby?”

“At school. You two have slept for nearly 20 hours.”

“Oh. I…” Jim whipped his head around as the Nunez’s finished putting up a curtain, while Draal brought a huge basin, full of steaming _fresh_ water and put it down by Jim’s bed.

“Good job, Trollhunter.” Draal smiled broadly. “When you’re better, there’s a bunch down at the inn who want to hear of your victories.”

Jim winced. _If only you knew_ _…_ “Thanks,” he said.

“Kay, Draal.” Barbara smiled. “Draal’s offered to help—You’re weak, but too big for me, and we’re going to move you to the bath. If you need help, Draal will hold you like a hospital lift-team. Don’t be prideful.”

“I…” Jim almost said he could get out of bed, but he felt so damned _weak_. Where had his strength gone? Jim nodded, and raised his hands, like a baby. Draal and Barbara took him, Draal’s good hand outspread, supporting his lower back, while his mother held his arms, guiding him towards the bath. Jim blushed. Not for Draal, the trolls had about as much interest in the human body as they did a kumquat, but Mom… It had been a long while since he’d needed that kind of help.

From Mom, at least.

But that embarrassment vanished as he entered the water. Jim didn’t even have words, just a moan of pleasure. The water felt… Different, but even if it had been rancid tap water it would still be paradise. Not cold, not searing, but… Jim looked down at his arm, watching the grime float off of it, and then just vanish, like the water was dissolving it.

“What?” he asked.

“Heartstone water. We’ve had kegs drinking in the heartstone’s energies since you left. Darklands are a filthy place—normal water wouldn’t get everything.” Draal said. “Vendel took extra care with this.”

Jim nodded. It felt… He could feel the core of cold within him, the sense of being _pulled_ down, the tiredness that never went away being slowly banished, devoured by that wonderful feeling of heat and warmth and life. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds from Trollmarket. Laughter, bellows, and oh, it sounded like Glug was advertising a new batch. It was so _different_ from the sounds of the Darklands.

“Ah!”

Claire’s cry brought him back in a rush. Jim tried to get out, slipped, fell under the water, then came back, spluttering. “Claire? Claire!”

“I’m okay!” she said. “Just put some pressure on my arm.”

“Is it still hurting?”

“Not as much as the troll who gave it to me…” Claire paused. “Jim, this is wonderful! I…When was the last time we bathed?”

“Real water or Darklands?”

“I—Darklands.”

Jim tried to think. “A month? No, less. It was when you had your last period, remember?”

“The _last_ one in that place!” Claire said, and then giggled, though her mother was making scandalized noises. “Are you still going to build me my statue?”

“Gold?”

“Gold! 100 Feet tall, outstretched hands.”

“One hand holding tampons…”

“And the other one chocolate, the two greatest inventions in the world!”

“Claire!” Ophelia’s voice rose over the curtain.

“Do you _know_ what it’s like to have to use uncured leather, what’s left of your underclothes, or moss?” Claire said. “ _Two_ hundred feet tall! And give it diamond eyes!”

 

 

* * *

 

Barbara winced and mentally scheduled Claire for a complete gynecology workup. Then she decided to ask an important question, while Draal was there to rescue Jim from Javier if he gave the wrong answer. “Jim… You’ve seen Claire… Naked?”

“Yeah, sure.”

_Okay, that was easy for some values of the word._

“There was the time when she got soaked, her clothes were just freezing her. I had my armor, but I couldn’t get it off to give her my clothes. We had some skins from a silent killer and so I wrapped her in them while we dried her clothes.” There was silence at that point from the other side of the curtain. Barbara looked up to see Ophelia biting her lip, Javier clenching a fist. “There were a couple of other times, I mean, it’s the _Darklands_ , you can’t dress behind a stone; that’s just asking for something to kill you. The last time was when Claire got sick—something we ate, but we were _starving,_ so we took the chance and it was also during her period, so I had to help her bathe, and not throw up on herself… And then she did the same for me after I got thrown into the wall and was so dizzy I couldn’t stand up and whenever I went it was bloody…”

Barbara let her other question go unspoken. There was something about Jim…

_Practical._ Jim, her son, would have been turning utterly red right now. He was a good boy, but he was still a teen, and yet…

_He helped clean up Claire when she was sick_ _…_ Most stories of men caring for their sick girlfriend you saw on TV had the mysterious and yet unknown disease that seemed to mainly involve becoming interestingly pale and weak so the man could prepare breakfast in bed. It sounded like Jim and Claire had encountered the more normal health conditions that involved projectile vomiting and leaking from every orifice. It was the kind of maturity that you didn’t often get from teenagers. And yet…

“Jim,” Barbara said softly. “One thing I need to know, and it may be important for Claire’s medical welfare.” Nobody else was likely to be able to hear them, unless Jim blurted something out.

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Were you sexually intimate with Claire?”

“I—” Once again his head vanished beneath the steaming water, before he came up spluttering. “ _No!_ I mean, Claire’s pretty but there was something trying to kill us nearly every waking moment. We hugged and kissed a couple of times, but I’d never do that, not in the Darklands, It’d be better h—I mean, not here, I—I’m just going to shut up, now.” He was beet red. 

“Don’t worry,” Barbara said. “Just wanted to make sure, but everyone knows you’re trustworthy.” _And you_ _’ve completely separated the idea of a nude Claire from the idea of a_ ** _sexual_** _Claire._ Barbara really didn’t know how to handle that. She kissed him on the top of the head. It was the only reason she heard his murmur.

“If only you knew…”


	5. Meals and Excuses

“How do we explain their return?” Ophelia asked. “They’ve been missing for almost six months.”

“Nomura says the Order will help on that,” Draal muttered, looking over at the two baths, the teens looking so relaxed that he feared they might _turn_ to water.

“Why would they?” Barbara asked.

“Because there really aren’t that many of them,” Draal replied. “They know that if stuff about the trolls gets out, if stuff about the order gets out, suddenly everyone is hunting _them._ _”_

_“_ And they trust us to do the same…” Ophelia said. “Because people wouldn’t make a distinction between evil trolls and good trolls… or the humans who helped them.” She looked back to where her daughter was. Suddenly those ridiculous movies where the government seized an alien, and the people who were helping them, to carry them off to some lab weren’t nearly as funny as they had been. She pressed one hand to her forehead. She’d seen the trolls and they were big and impressive, but honestly? The United States military could probably take out the trolls—but “Take out” might include her child. It might include Arcadia. It might include all the trolls who were just trying to live their lives. Ophelia and Javier were successful, respected members of the community—but their families hadn’t always been. Revealing the trolls, especially if you had to mention that the bad trolls might be literal _baby eaters,_ could see horrifying things happen, especially if the Janus order decided to go all in on stirring the pot.

“So, once Jim and Claire are fitter, we just tell the police that we found them by our homes, without much memory of where they were, just that they were forced to fight.” Barbara nodded. “Their clothes, once we get rid of the troll components, really do look like they were forced to live in them for months.”

“It’s thin,” Javier said. “But I mean, what other answer is there? Trolls?”

“What a ridiculous thought,” Blinky said. “Trolls? Next you’ll be claiming it was dragons.”

“Yeah!” Suddenly, Javier paused. “Do they exist?”

“They mostly disappeared in the early 12th century,” Blinky said. “Nobody was ever quite certain why.”

“Let’s go tell them.” Draal gestured to the baths. “Before all their bones dissolve.”

 

* * *

 

Claire luxuriated in the water. It was warm, and _oh God_ it made her feel wonderful. She ran her fingers over her sides, feeling every rib. _God, Mary is going to be spreading anorexia rumors and—_ she blinked and sat up,the water sloshing. Mary. Darci. How long had it been since she’d thought of her friends? They’d talked about them a lot, in the first days, when they had been so naive, talking about just walking in and getting Enrique. Then as the weeks turned to months and survival started to be the biggest challenge—not just against Gunmar but against the Darklands itself, they’d slowly stopped talking too much about what they’d do when they got back.

Claire shook her head. And now they were back. A few hours ago, they’d been—her mind shied away from some of the things that had happened in those last terrifying hours.

“But now we’re here. We’re home.” School. Bed. Parents. The _sun._ Oh, God, she wanted to be up and out for her first sunrise. She would never oversleep and miss one _again._

“Ready to get out?” Her mother asked, and Claire nodded. Ophelia had a big, fluffy bathrobe for her, and as her mother gently dried her with a towel, Claire almost moaned in joy. Soft cloth, warm, dry. Even when they’d been with the rebels, they’d been living in a world where humanity had no place. Even little things like bathrobes had become dimly remembered luxuries. Then she was sitting in a wheelchair, which was odd.

“Mom, Dad, I can walk.”

“You have a fractured lower leg,” Javier said.

“I walked on it before.”

“Yes, that wasn’t very healthy,” Barbara said. “I have some new cast material we’ve been testing—it doesn’t need to be shielded from showers, and should be easier to keep clean. I’ll put it on later. For now…” She put the two temporary casts on Claire’s leg and forearm. Claire wiggled her fingers, nodding to herself in satisfaction. She could still use her hand.

“Now, let’s talk about how we’re going to introduce you back into the world,” Barbara said.

The conversation was strange. On the one hand, Claire could see the reasoning. On the other hand, it seemed odd to be worried about it. It wasn’t like trying to find food that wouldn’t kill them, or realizing they’d just disturbed a nest of stone worms…

“…so the story is that you were kidnapped by an underground fighting ring in LA. You escaped, but you really weren’t in your right minds, so you hid until you made it back here and staggered onto our front doorsteps.”

“Oh.” Claire blinked. “That’s actually close to what happened. I mean, after Gunmar captured us, he made us fight for him, had some soldiers he was going to use his Decimar blade on, and others were promised promotions if they could ‘break us’.” She lightly touched her forearm. “Orglick gave me this when he slammed me into the wall. Remember him, Jim?”

“Yeah.” Jim said. “He hurt you. I killed him.”

The silence from the others, troll and human alike, was uncomfortable.

“So,” Barbara said. “You’ve been re-hydrated, and you were eating, even if not enough, so I’ve prepared some things for you.”

“Steak?” Jim asked.

“Guac?” Claire followed. “Enough to bathe in?”

“Shakes,” Barbara said. “You’ve not been eating a lot of solid food, and giving you steak is a good way to just have it come right back up. Also, Vendel has offered a special treatment that should do something for you. We need to get your body mass back up. She frowned. “I wasn’t… But you’re looking like you could need it, and I trust Vendel. She looked at the bag, then smiled. “Instructions, in English.”

“Vendel.” Claire laughed. “He knows more than he lets on.”

Barbara put two big cups on the table, measuring in various powders and milk. “Don’t gobble it down,” she warned.

_Real food. I don_ _’t care if its not guac,_ Claire thought. Her stomach grumbled as she stared at something that wasn’t from the Darklands. Something that didn’t  make you want to puke from the smell or that you had to steam, smash and mulch to keep it from poisoning you. Finally, Barbara stirred in a spoon from the bag Vendel had given her, causing the thick, whitish shakes to turn dark purple.

Then Claire and Jim were drinking them, and it was…

_Oh God._ The bitter aftertaste of the powder didn’t do _anything_ to change the joy, the incredible, decadent _joy_ of tasting milk and ice cream and just real… Claire’s sigh of delight was matched by Jim’s, the teens’ eyes closed in utter bliss.

_So many things. So many little things_ _…_ Claire thought.

“On another matter,” Blinky said. “Sooner or later, we will have to talk about the bridge.”

“The destroyed bridge.” Draal said.

“But one that was unguarded for a short time.” Blinky replied. “Vendel was quite annoyed about that fact.”

“We were there pretty quickly—what it was only five minutes after Draal went in?”  Javier asked. Toby held out his watch and nodded.

“Yeah, it was only a few minutes.”

Jim put his shake down, looking at the empty glass in regret. “I… Gunmar may be big, but he’s fast—I mean, _really_ fast.”

“And he wouldn’t wait for his armies,” Claire said. “He can always make a new army—he couldn’t get _out_ of the Darklands without outside help.”

“On the other hand,” Blinky said. “It is entirely likely that he is currently roaring his displeasure in his cage. He certainly would have stayed around to attack the Trollhunter when he was weak!”

The others agreed, their faces smoothing, only a faint bit of worry left on them.

As the discussion faded into the background. Claire looked up at Jim, their eyes meeting. No words needed to be said. Everyone else was hoping for the best, assuming Gunmar was still locked away.

But they hadn’t been in the Darklands and there was one lesson Jim and Claire had learned in that place.

Always, _always_ plan for the _worst._


	6. Debriefing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're awake and it's time to tell of some of the wonderful friends they made in the Darklands.   
> For some values of wonderful.

As the conversation went to other matters, Jim tried to keep track of what had been happening. There had been several infestations of gnomes, and worse, a goblin attack at the school, which had forced Toby to bring in Steve and Eli, amazingly enough.

“He’s not as bad as he used to be,” Toby said. “I mean, he can still be a jerk, but Steve understands and…” Toby looked embarrassed. “I sort of mentioned that you take down things ten times as bad as a goblin.  Given that he was being chased up a tree by ‘em…”

“He’s okay, right?” Claire asked.

“Hit ‘em with a baseball bat.” Toby said.

“Hard.” AAARRRGGHH! Smiled. “Go squish.”

“Yeah, and Eli’s sort of our um, guy in the know, except when he tells everyone that there are aliens…”

Jim snorted. That was Eli for you.

“Now, Master Jim, Fair Claire,” Blinky said. “Is there any hope of allies from the Darklands? Enemies of Gunmar?”

“Not many,” Claire said. “We were with the rebel Gumm Gumms, but most of them were killed.” She frowned. “And it was more that they _really_ hated Gunmar. If they were up here…”  She shook her head.

“Yeah, they might not be so big on the ‘play nice with people’ thing.”  Jim shook his head.

“Nothing else? There are tales of things that live in the Darklands that might be—Jim? Master Jim?”  Blinky’s voice was coming as if from far away. Jim felt Claire’s hand grip his.

“We…We went deep. Deep below Gunmar’s fortress. We thought he wouldn’t follow us. He didn’t… Jus…Just sent soldiers…” Claire’s voice trailed off. “They… They died.” Jim glanced over at Claire. Her face had turned white, sweat appearing on it. He felt the same.

  

_The Gumm Gumms were fleeing. Jim should have been happy. But he wasn't. Claire was biting her lip, blood trickling down her chin_ _… Just like Jim. It wasn't Gunmar's soldiers._

_It was what was rising through the cave. It was black, a darkness so absolute that it seemed to draw in the eye. A hunger, ancient beyond reckoning, hating even the dim lights of the Darklands. Jim could feel its malice, endless, wanting nothing more than to devour and keep devouring until there was nothing left. It had been here before Gunmar, before trolls_ _… Maybe it had been here before the Darklands, until some power imprisoned it, forging this realm as a prison for something far more terrible than Gunmar, or perhaps the universe itself created the Darklands, sealing off something that would never be satisfied until it consumed the stars themselves._

_It rose up and silently, softly, the rearmost soldiers were blotted out._

_There were no screams. No shouts of fury, no clangor of weapons. They were just... No longer there. Troll flesh and troll armor and swords all devoured silently by the darkness. It paused then, and Jim knew it was looking for something else to still, some other beating heart to take. He wanted to scream, to wail for his mother like a baby, to run, but to do any of that would be death._

_Be silent, be still, don't see us please God go away goaway GOAWAY... Then, whether by divine miracle or chance, it paused, and then sank back through the cracks, the terrible presence vanishing, likely to digest whatever of metal or flesh or spirit it had devoured. Moments later, Claire started to sob in relief and terror._

_Jim didn't care. He was sobbing as well._

_As soon as they could move, as soon as they could convince their limbs to move, they would go back up. Back to where Gunmar's forces marched, back beyond where the thing they had just seen did not come. Nothing could convince Jim to stay, not even if all the legions of Gunmar were waiting for them..._

Jim clenched his eyes tightly shut. _It_ _’s not here. It’s back in the Darklands._ It had been too _big_ to get through any conceivable gateway. Too alien to the universe where stars blazed and worlds teamed with life. It was sealed away. It had to be.

“Mr. Blinky.” Barbara’s voice was calm. “You’re frightening them. Jim. Claire, you’re here. You’re here. Safe.”

Claire breathed deeply, and Jim followed suddenly aware that he had been holding his breath.

“Don’t…” Claire paused. “Don’t ask us about that, Blinky. We won’t tell you.” She shook her head. “There are older things in the Darklands than Gunmar. More terrible things. They don’t have names.”

“And if we tell you about them, the sun and moon won’t shine as brightly,” Jim said. He and Claire would keep that memory. Forever, and nobody else would ever hear of it from them. Somehow, they were holding hands again.

“I… Apologies, Master Jim, Fair Claire. I was not thinking.”

“I think,” Barbara said. “That given that Gunmar is almost certainly _no longer an issue_ , that we should focus on getting you two ready. Your Junior year has just started and the sooner we get you back in the community…”

“The sooner we can put this behind us!” Ophelia said brightly.

More conversations followed, but soon Jim and Claire were leaning against each other, eyes barely open. Jim felt Draal and Barbara come and lift him up.

“I can do it myself,” he murmured.

“You can, but I’m seizing mothering rights,” Barbara said. Next to her, Ophelia and Javier were helping Claire to her bed. “I have a shift tonight and Claire’s parents have to head up. I’d like to take you, but if someone sees you before you officially appear…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jim said. “We’ve been by ourselves—”

“Too long,” Barbara’s voice was sad. “Mr. Blinky will be here with you, and you _don_ _’t have to be alone_ anymore, Jim. You and Claire can let other people help you. You’ve done enough. Now lay down and sleep.”

_Done enough._ Jim shivered, a sudden memory, Enrique’s neck, with a razor-sharp blade lain against it, Claire’s sobbing almost drowned out the triumphant shouts of the approaching warriors. He shook his head, trying to banish the thought, then smiled up at Mom. “Okay, I’ll be good.”

“You’ve always been good,” Barbara replied. “Sometimes too good, when you decide something needs to be done. I’ll see you in the morning.” She kissed him on the forehead.

For a while after their parents left, Jim and Claire drowsily talked about… Nothing really. How Darci was, whether the new Danger House 2 was still in theaters, since it wasn’t really _new_. 

“I wonder if they’re going to hold us back?” Claire murmured. “We missed most of our Sophomore year…”

“Ugh,” Jim said. “I really don’t want to have to repeat all those classes and we wouldn’t have any classes with Toby, or your friends…”

“Maybe we could get a fetch and have a Gumm Gumm sign a note for us…” Claire said, giggling, before she yawned.

Silence fell, save for the dim sounds of the bustling Trollmarket. Jim couldn’t get to sleep, and he heard Claire’s restless movements. Finally, he sat up, still in the pajama’s his mother had dressed him in. He looked around. Blinky was off somewhere else, and so Jim clambered into Claire’s bed, putting his arms around her, the fabric of her over-sized nightshirt warm under his fingers. Her breath became regular, Claire snuggling into Jim and sighing. Moment’s later, the two teens were deep asleep.

 

* * *

 

“It is not just Usurna, Blinkous.” Vendel gestured with his replacement staff. “The entire Trollmarket is uneasy. It would be best if—” he stopped, tilting his head. “Well. It appears that the Trollhunter no longer sleeps alone.”

“Great Merlin!” Blinky said. “Barbara will—”

“Be happy that her child is sleeping,” Vendel said. “I see none of the sexplay human parents seem to be so concerned about.” He gestured to the far end of the room. “Come, let us take our conversation there, where we will not disturb their sleep.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, there's a fairly unsubtle callout to a far older, more famous book of literature here :).


	7. Claire Takes a Walk

It was decided that Claire and Jim wouldn’t make their “appearance” until a week had gone by to allow for them to make a better recovery. Barbara had pointed out that the troll medications, if they worked as intended, might raise questions about why were their children recovering so fast.

And they were. The magical substance provided by Vendel, despite Blinky’s odd looks, was causing them to gain weight at an impressive rate. Claire was and would always be slim, but she was no longer _anorexic_ and walking across the room didn’t exhaust her.

_Not to mention I have boobs again,_ Claire thought. She wasn’t going to mention that to her parents. Oh no. But the months in the Darklands, getting thinner and thinner, until she looked like some rail-thin caricature of who she had been… Claire looked up into the mirror that her mother had provided. It had been worse in their last month, the rebels gone, on the run, hunted, and then imprisoned…

Worse, according to Dr. Lake, evidently the things they were eating in the Darklands had lacked a number of vitamins humans needed. If they had spent many more months in that hell, it wouldn’t have mattered _what_ they were eating. Not that Gunmar expected them to live… Claire’s ribs twinged with the memory of pain. Even Jim hadn’t been able to protect her.

_Jim, curled up around her, his armor ringing from the blows of Gunmar_ _’s soldiers…_

Claire took a deep breath and stared at herself in the mirror. Her face still looked a little thinner, faint lines spoke of months squinting in the Darklands.

Dr. Lake had warned her that some of those changes might be permanent.

“I’m afraid you’ve just burned off your baby fat a little sooner than most teens,” the doctor had said, her eyes sympathetic.

_Baby fat._ Claire shook her head at the thought. The Darklands were no place— _Enrique, looking up in glee, chubby face unconcerned as the razor-sharp blade descended_ _…_

Claire gripped the edges of the basin until her hands turned white. It was very early morning outside, and Jim had been taken off by Vendel to speak with the Elder Trollhunters. Technically, Claire was supposed to stay here, but she had something else to do.

First of all, she had to prepare herself. Throwing knives? Check. Spikes, check. Short swords, the crystalline blades empowered by the same magic that empowered Nomura’s blades, check. Shadow Staff? Most _definitely,_ check.

None of her blades were poisoned. Trolls were, to put it mildly, not fans of someone wandering around with creeper’s sun on her blades,but this was a _safe_ place.

It was just that Claire felt _safer_ if she had a weapon. The last time she’d been stripped of them… Claire shook her head, and slung the heavy bag containing her breastplate over her shoulder, before she ventured out into Trollmarket.

Trollmarket was huge—normally, Claire, Toby and Jim stuck to the upper parts, because that was where most of the “working” part of the city was. Not to mention some of the lower down trolls didn’t really like humans that much. But this time, Claire was heading to a new shop. She descended, the uneven steps forcing her to watch her step. She kept going, looking at the various trolls going about their business. Once, she stopped at an intersection as what looked like stone people mover whipped past.

_Why didn_ _’t I do more exploring…_ Claire wondered. On the other hand, she’d only had a few weeks before she had ventured into the Darklands. Hardly enough time for someone to explore a human town, let alone the 3D maze that was Trollmarket.

And she wasn’t exploring this time. She had a destination. Claire had read of a certain troll in Blinky’s books, and where they lived. Now it was time to go there.  She read the sigils on the wall, and turned toward the workshop of a troll she’d read of. A very _particular_ troll.

The heat grew as she kept going, a heat accompanied by the sound of a clanging hammer. Sweat burst out on her face as she approached the cave, fire light gleaming from it.

And then she was inside, and it felt like she’d walked into a furnace. Which, considering the fact that the troll at the far end of the cave was standing _in fire_ hammering something on an anvil, wasn’t far from the truth. Around the perimeter of teh room there were cauldrons full of bubbling metal, the transparent material letting Claire get a good look at the molten metal.

Claire waited. One thing she’d read was that trolls at work preferred to not be disturbed until they were ready. Given that she was going to have to ask a favor… Claire sat down and pulled out a book, one of her favorite, that her mother had brought down for her to read.

 

_When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton_ _…_

Nearly an hour passed and Claire had reached Rivendale, before the hammering ceased and the flames slowly died. Heavy footsteps approached as she tucked the book away.

The Troll was female, formations of gemstones adorning her body, luminescent patterns swirling around her face. “Mmmm… you don’t _look_ like the Gunmar Slayer.”

“What?” Claire said, shocked. “I didn’t slay him—we barely _survived him_.”

“Not what some say. Of course other’s say you’re actually changelings or he touched you with his blade and we should expel you before you slay us.” She shrugged. “Only thing that moves faster than air is rumors. I’m Gara the Forgemaster. What are you here for, then, little fleshbag?”

Claire pulled the breastplate from her pack and let it fall with a clang. “I want better armor. We got this from… Friends.”

“Dead friends?”

“Now. Yes.” Claire shook her head.

“Mph.” Gara raised the breastplate before her. “Gumm Gumm trash. I can do better, but…” She looked back down at Claire. “You aren’t a troll. This would actually hamper you.”

“It saved me!” Claire rubbed her ribs. “If I hadn’t been wearing it when I was hit—”

“And how many times did wearing something this awkward ensure you _did_ get hit?” Gara shook her head. “Come into my design room.”

Claire walked in to another room, staring at the ranked shelving. She’d never seen so many books before, other than Blinky’s library. But they weren’t the same… there were complex troll sigils that she barely understood, save that they referred to forging and casting and next to them…

_Proceedings of the American Society for Metals?_ That was in English. Next to it was a large, bound volume its title in Cyrillic lettering.

“How…”

“Mail order,” Gara said. There were sand tables and various types of mannikins, a dizzying array of weapons and armor on the walls.

“It’s been many, many years since we fought,” Gara said. “The Trollhunter needs no weapons and his companions—well, they have their own tools.” She turned around, one gleaming eye pinning Claire’ the floor. “But of course, you and the short, fat one are fleshbags. One good hit and you’ll be speaking with your ancestors.”

“Yeah,” Claire said.

“A challenge then. I like it. Strip.”

“What?”

“If I can’t see how your body moves, how your muscles shift, I can’t design something to work with you.”

_We_ _’re not attractive to trolls…_ Somehow the fact that Claire was easy with _Jim_ seeing her naked, didn’t extend to everyone. “Can I just strip to my underwear?”

“If it bothers you that much, fine,” Gara said. “Probably all for the good, given how fragile you fleshbags are.”

“Fine,” Claire said and stripped down to her underthings, and then found herself being forced to move her body in ways she’d never dreamed possible. Back flips, reaching, showing how far her arms would move. Sometimes Gara would take her, the warm stone of the troll rough on her flesh and move and arm or a leg.

“Does that hurt?”

“How long can you could this position?”

Next came her using weapons, still in her underwear, sword, dagger, staff, the troll sketching in a big book as she stared at her.

Over three hours passed as Claire was pushed to her limits and finally, Gara raised a hand. Claire nearly fell over.

“I”—she drew in a shuddering breath—“thought I was better.”

“You seemed to be doing well, for a fleshbag. Why didn’t you ask for a rest?”

_Because the last troll to ask that was laughing at me._ Claire avoided the question. “I still had a little more to give.”

“Hmph. Young warriors are all alike, it seems. Look at this.”

Claire stared at the sketches. There was no armor, but they were all of her, frozen in mid motion, arrows showing where her limbs were moving.

“No armor?”

“Design armor for you in a few hours? Even I’m not that good.” Gara laughed. “I can’t just resize troll armor for you, young warrior. You move differently. It needs to be something that protects you and _complements_ your movements. I’ll have a design by tomorrow, hopefully. Then you bring the tubby fleshbag so I can fit him for _his_ armor.”

“Ummm…” Claire frowned. “I found you, but about payment…” She’d had some ideas, but any troll who knew about _mail order_ could probably get all the socks or other material she wanted. Claire had a feeling her allowance (even accepting that she had over six months of back pay due) wasn’t going to cut it.

Gara laughed. “Payment? I’ll do it for the challenge. It’s been years since a troll has wanted anything that stretched my abilities.”

“Okay.” Claire said with a relieved smile. “But one other thing.” She lifted the breastplate. “It really was given by someone who became a close friend and it’s… All I have left of her. Is there anyway you can incorporate the metal at least? To remember her?”

Gara ran one hand over the breastplate. “The design is terrible, but the metal is good. You’ve been wearing it for a time, right?”

“Over four months.” Claire closed her eyes, remembering the quiet of the rebel’s armory, the big troll who had adopted her rummaging through the armor, looking for something small enough for her. “When we were captured, even Gunmar didn’t…”

“He wouldn’t.” Gara held up the breastplate, staring at it. “Gifts given in honor or love have a way of coming back and biting those who would desecrate them. I can feel it. The metal is good. The reason you want it is better. It will reinforce the final product.”

“Thank you.” Claire said, and then looked at her watch. Her eyes widened.

“I’ve been here nearly 7 hours?  Everyone is going to be going crazy!”

“Well, then go up to them. I like my solitude, and don’t need a horde of searchers breaking my door down. I’ll send a message when I’m ready for your short friend and when your armor is ready.”

“Thank you!” Claire said as she dashed out the door.

Inside, Gara shook her head. “Whelps.”

 

* * *

 

Claire moved as fast as she could. Maybe the meeting with the elder Trollhunters had gone long, maybe her mother was delayed at work, maybe—

“We will divide our group up into search teams! We know that Fair Claire ventured into the deeps and some trolls there are not overly friendly to humans and so we must be—” Suddenly Blinky’s eyes snapped up to where Claire had come skidding into his chamber, seeing her parents, Dr. Lake, Jim, Toby, Draal, AAARRRGGHH, and even Vendel.  “Or,“ Blinky continued, “we could simply ask Fair Claire why she felt the need to vanish without informing us of her destination so soon after returning to us from beyond all hope.” He wasn’t smiling. Nobody was.

_I am so busted._


	8. Meeting with the Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim has a chat with the Council of Trollhunters and some events in the Darklands are revealed.

Jim had been worried about the meeting with the Council. The spirits of the dead trollhunters hadn’t always liked his decisions.

_More like, never liked them._

But this time, he stood, alone. No voices mocked or accused him. Nobody appeared.

“Hello?” Jim said. Nothing.

_Oh God, did going to the Darklands_ break _the forge?_ Yeah, he could imagine how that would go with Vendel.

“We are here, Trollhunter.” Kanjigar appeared, his ghostly form looking oddly pensive.

“I know, I screwed up. Gunmar could be out.” Jim said. “I almost got Claire killed. I almost K-got Enrique killed.” He sighed. “So tell me how exactly I messed up _this time._ _”_

“Your physical capabilities are returning quickly,” Kanjigar said. “But we fear for you and your consort’s minds.”

“We’re—wait, consort?”

Kanjigar raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer mate?”

“No, Y-I mean, she’s my girlfriend!”

“Far more than _that_ ,” a voice murmured, for once sounding amused.

_Great. The first time they don_ _’t sound furious is when they’re talking about my relationships._

“And yet,” Kanjigar said, “Even when Gunmar threatened her life, beat her, you did not surrender to him or his Decimar blade, Trollhunter.”

Jim shook his head. “He would have murdered her the moment he had me—or worse. Resisting was the only thing that kept her alive.” Jim bit his lip, and closed his eyes as the images played out for him—and the other trollhunters. 

 

* * *

 

Claire was on the ground, kneeling, sucking in deep gulps of air after the duel. They’d taken everything from her but her breast-band and the tattered remains of her old skirt. Jim could see every rib, every abrasion. Her lip was split, blood trickling down her chin and the sword she held trembled in her hands.

There was the rocky pile of one troll by her, and the warriors in the audience had been momentarily shocked into silence by how Claire, a waif barely as heavy as his hand, had killed a Gumm Gumm with a thrust through the eye slits of the armor.

But now _Gunmar_ was walking towards her, and he’d beaten Jim and Claire together—before weeks of near starvation had taken its toll.

It wasn’t a fight—it was a torture session. Jim screamed incoherently, kicking, thrashing at the trolls that held him down, their weight pinning him.

“He must not appreciate you, fleshbag…” Gunmar said. “Or he would have submitted himself. Perhaps he believes that he’ll find a replacement, after you are no more…”

_If I give in, he kills Claire. If I give in, he kills Claire._ It was the sole coherent thought in Jim’s head, but he had no doubt of it. Gunmar had no mercy. Not even to his own. The moment Jim fell, Claire _died._

“Jim will beat you,” Claire said, backing up, trying to put a wall at her back so Gunmar couldn’t leap over her.

“But he is not fighting me now, is he? Where are your brave claims now? Where are your _allies_. The rebels are dead, their heads mounted on my walls and you—” Gunmar _moved_ with the blinding speed that belayed his form. The Decimar blade smashed Claire’s sword aside, leaving only a hilt in her hand as the blade shattered. Claire tried to stab down at his feet, but a brutal kick sent her flying across the floor. Claire scrambled to her hands and knees, frantically scrabbling after the hilt. “—you are a _dog_ crawling in the _filth_. What? No words? Just like the other humans who thought they could contend with me.” With that, Gunmar took a step, and pressed his great foot against Claire’s back, pressing her down, leaning forward as the chamber was filled with the sound of her choking wheezes as air was forced from her lungs. Gunmar relaxed a bit.

“Beg, fleshbag. Beg your lover to submit himself and you gain another breath of air…”

Claire wheezed sucking in her breath as Gunmar lifted his foot. She rolled over on her back, looking up at him, eyes wide, then spat and screamed, “Vete a la chingada!” as her outstretched hand found a jagged piece of rock and she tried to drive it into Gunmar…but the rock simply shattered against his skin.

And then Gunmar was bearing down with his foot again, Claire choking, still hitting his foot with the remains of the stone, but every blow weaker than the first.

“Brave, but bravery saved _none_ of those who stood at me.” Then Gunmar looked over at Jim. “But _you are_ not to blame for your pain. You are not to blame for being here, crushed by my power, fleshbag. That guilt is on the head of the _Trollhunter_ who brought you here, who refused to _submit even as you are under my foot_ _…”_ And then the foot was bearing down.

 

* * *

 

“Trollhunter!” Kanjigar said, and Jim found himself, kneeling before them. The echoes of a shout of horror still filled the room. “That was but a memory…”

“Then why did you have to play it for me?”

“To warn you. You are _not_ ready. No matter how you prepare physically, these memories will be a vulnerability and Gunmar will exploit them—to you and your consort’s great sorrow.”

“You think Gunmar is out?”

“What do you think?”

Jim shook his head. “Yeah, I’d like to think he isn’t, but we’re just not that lucky.” He got up, trying to shake out those memories.

“Then you must continue to prepare.” Kanjigar said. “Both mentally and physically. You should speak to your friends.”

“I—no. They’re so happy we’re out. If we tell them all this, they’re going to start blaming _themselves_.”

“Or blame you?”  Kanjigar said. Jim couldn’t meet his eyes. “And we know everything that happened, even—”

“No!” Jim said, breathing heavily. “We don’t need to talk about that. Not now, not ever.” He paused. “We’ll… work it out.”

“Strange,” Kanjigar mused.

“What?”

“I remember a most annoying Trollhunter who told me that working alone was foolish, that it was the reason for my death. He insulted all of the elder trollhunters. Quite arrogant about it.”

“Yeah, well—”

“Do you know what else he was?”

_Great, now they_ _’re going to rub it in._ “What?”

“He was right.”

 

* * *

 

And then Jim was standing in the heroes forge, adrenalin running through his body. _I need to talk to Clair—_

“Jim! Jimbo! Claire’s gone missing!” Toby shouted, running up to him. “We thought she was on a walk, but she took off and she’s been gone for hours!”

“What?” Jim turned to stare at Toby. “Why wasn’t anyone _with_ her!”

“We didn’t think she’d run off!”

_What if she didn_ _’t run off? What if there are changelings in the Trollmarket? She could be kidnapped, hurt, on her way to_ ** _Gunmar_** ** _…_** Jim shook his head. “Let’s go, did you call her parents?

“I called _everyone_.”

“Good, we’ll meet at Blinky’s and start planning our search…”  _I_ _’m coming, Claire._  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gunmar is smart. he's not nice, but he is generally portrayed as being intelligent. Of course he would use Claire against Jim.


	9. Another Point of View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we get to see how the Third member of our trio is doing.

Toby had expected… Well, he didn’t know what. Jim and Claire, they were always so with it, and after he and Claire had learned how to work together, they made a great team. He hadn’t been angry that she’d left him—there had only been a second for her to use the staff and leap into the open bridge behind Jim.

Okay, he wasn’t _very_ angry at her. Just a little. Maybe a lot, on occasion.

But he figured that they would have come out like they always did, winning, with Enrique and then the next day Jim and Claire would be back with him at school—or crying over AAARRRGGHH!!!

Toby had missed AAARRRGGHH, and it had been worse with Jim and Claire gone. He’d spent a lot of time crying that day.

But then they didn’t come back. And then Usurna (The Bitch), destroyed the bridge. The days started to turn into weeks, and even with two changeling masks and NotEnrique helping…

Things started to fall apart. Especially when he’d finally told Dr. Lake, with Draal and Blinky there to prove he wasn’t nuts.

 

* * *

 

“You—” She took a gulp of water. “You’re saying that you, my son and Claire have been fighting these… monsters.”

“Not all troll—”

“Troll Monsters,” Dr. L repeated. “And now they’re in some kind of… Troll Hell? And you haven’t heard from them? You haven’t communicated with them at all?”

“They are likely—” Blinky didn’t get to finish his words.

“ _They could be dead! They could be lying in a pit somewhere dying! You don_ _’t know!”_ Dr. L, _threw_ the glass at Blinky, and Toby flinched as it shattered against Blinky’s rocky skin. This wasn—Even when Dr. L was mad at Jim, she didn’t do _this._

“Barbara, I know it’s difficult, the binding spell’s aftermath—”

“I-I was almost killed. I had no idea what had damaged the house and you tell me that I was dating a ma—a _changeling_ who used me against my _son!_ _”_ The older woman was breathing quickly, her face going pale. “ _None of you_ even told me that he had almost been killed—it was never coyotes, you were _lying_ to me even back then!”

“Dr. L, They’ll come back—”

“You don’t know that, Toby! This isn’t a game and _none of you_ are immortal!”

“Barbara, please!” Blinky started, and suddenly, Draal was between Toby and the woman.

_Protecting me?_ Toby shivered. It was _Doctor Lake_. And they would come back, right? It had only been a few weeks, they had to be okay. The Darklands were just big. They’d come back and they would all laugh at things again.

“No! Don’t please me! We’re going to the Nunez’s. To tell them about their _child_.”

“No, Dr. L!” Toby said frantically, getting in front of Draal. “We told you, but if we tell Claire’s parents, they’ll go cra—”

“Why?” Dr. L’s voice had gone to a monotone. Toby blinked. “Because they might get upset? Because they might wonder…” Her voice was scaling up, and were those _tears_ in her eyes. “Wonder about their daughter? Wonder why she’s acting so strange? And when you can’t _lie_ to them anymore, they’ll wonder if she’s _dead!_ If she’s somewhere, _screaming for them, where they will never hear her?_ Wonder if they’ll ever-if I’ll ever see my _baby_ again!” Suddenly Dr. L was _screaming,_ tears rolling down her cheeks. Toby had never _heard_ her scream like that.

_AAARRRGGHH is gone_ _… He’ll never call me Wingman again. Jim and Claire…what if… What if…_ Toby felt a sniff, his eyes pricking. No. No. He coudln’t…He just needed to… _What if they_ _’re really gone. What if Dr. L and the Nunez never see their kids again… Like Nana never saw mom again… If I never get to say hi to Jim again…_

“I’m…Sorry,” Toby didn’t recognize his voice. It was all choked up and suddenly he couldn’t see and his nose was going all snotty and God, he was _crying_ in front of Blinky and Draal like some little kid, but he just couldn’t stop. “But Angor attacked everyone and then AAARRRGGHH was dead and Jim and Claire ran off and I couldn’t stop them, and I didn’t know what to do because it’s not supposedtobelikethis—” The words started running over each other, coming out all _wrong_ and then Toby was _sitting_ and bawling like he was five.

Suddenly he felt arms around him. Not hard, like Draal or Blinky. Dr. Lake.

“I’m—” she sniffled. “I’m sorry, Toby. I never should have screamed at you. But we have to tell Claire’s parents. We don’t have the _right_ to lie to them. But I’m not angry at you…” She tightened her hug. “I’m angry at the people who enlisted _children_ into their war.” Toby looked up, and was oddly happy that he couldn’t see the expression she was directing at Blinky through his tears.

Because what he did see looked terrifying.

 

* * *

 

 

But now, Jim and Claire were back and things should go back to normal. Oh, the fams knew and he bet that they would yell at them, but they were supposed to come back out, Jim with that goofy grin on his face, Claire with her look that she had far too much to do today to bother with _this._

Not skinny. Not so weak that they had to be lifted. Not holding each other’s hands like they were lifelines. Jim, lying there, naked, with tubes running into him and so skinny that Toby could count every rib.

That wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

And now Jim was pacing the chamber as Blinky started planning out the search, when Claire came skidding into the room. “Or,“ He said, ”we could simply ask Fair Claire why she felt the need to vanish without informing us of her destination so soon after returning to us from beyond all hope.”

Jim didn’t pause, he _bounded_ over the table, the armor gleaming, taking Claire by the shoulders. “Did someone take you? Did they hurt you! Who did it!” Jim’s expression was scary.

“Jim—I had to talk to a troll, and I lost track of time,” Claire said. “I can—”

“No!” Jim said. “We have to stay together! I thought you remembered that—we _have—_ _”_ his hands were gripping Claire’s shoulders so tightly that the smaller girl winced in pain, but she didn’t show any other sign.

“Jim, I can handle—”

“Claire—” Suddenly, Barbara put her hand on Jim’s shoulder.

“Jim,” Barbara said. “You’re hurting her.”

“Ohmigod!” Jim let go, looking like he’d been scaled. “Claire, I’m, I didn’t mea—” Now Barbara was between Claire and Jim, Ophelia and Javier pulling Claire away.

“It’s okay, Jim. Take a few deep breaths for me, okay?”

_It_ _’s not okay, Dr. L…_ Toby thought. Jim, _hurt Claire?_ That was like, crazy impossible… But he’d done it.

“Where were you, young lady?” Ophelia asked, keeping one eye on Jim. “Jim isn’t the only one you scared.”

“I went down to Gara.”

“Forgemaster Gara!” Blinky said. “She lives on the deep levels, there are many trolls there who might not like a human… Fair Claire, that was risky in the extreme!”

“Nobody bothered me,” Claire protested.

“Because you are dressed for a fight,” Draal said. He gestured at her weapons. “Next time? Someone might have time to get their own weapons to challenge you. Walking around like that, you were challenging _them_ in their own caves _._ ”

“But she makes the best…”

“Armor it is true, and weapons as well,” Blinky said. “Nonetheless, it was careless in the _extreme_ for you to go wandering off like that. If you go again, I insist that one of us accompany you, so that we could smooth over any misunderstandings!”

“I can take—” Claire’s voice was cut off by Ophelia’s.

“We saw how well you and Jim took care of yourselves, or do you remember the last _week?_ ”

“This is my fault,” Jim said, his voice getting louder. “I never should have left you alone—”

“No, Jim, it isn’t your fault.” Barbara raised her hands. “Everyone, calm down. Claire took a walk. She’ll know better next time. Right, Claire?” Claire looked around at everyone, then nodded. “I’m sorry Mom, I just… wanted something to protect myself.”

“Nothing is going to hurt you,” Jim growled.

“Now,” Blinky said, “Let us focus on preparing you two for your trip to the surface and school. Ah, Master Jim, did the council say anything?”

“Yelled at me,” Jim said with a faint grin. “You know, the usual.”

Toby stared at Jim for a moment. _He_ _’s lying. Why is he lying?_

No. Nothing had gone back the way it was. Toby wondered if it ever would.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toby can be difficult to write for--I hope my try seems sufficient.


	10. Planning and Interludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made to get them back home, and an old "Friend" shows up on Barbara's doorstep.

Going back to the town ran into a few immediate problems.

“We can’t just drop them off in town,” Ophelia said. “Between traffic cameras and private  homes, it’s likely our cars would be seen.”

“Would it be that big of a deal?” Jim asked.

Every adult stared at him in disbelief. Barbara gestured at her son. “Jim, the cover story is that you and Claire were _kidnapped_  and forced to fight for your lives for almost half a year by an organized gang. I don’t care how much help the Janus order will give, there are going to be federal agents who will be doing everything they can to find out who brought you and shut them down. You’ve never dealt with the FBI on this—I did for some…” Barbara’s voice trailed off. “Never mind, it was a long time ago. But they don’t give up and for something like this, it will be _precisely_ that big a deal.”

“Then why won’t they keep  looking until they find the trolls?” Toby asked.

“You fleshbags have lots of criminals,” Draal muttered. “I’d bet the Janus order knows a few they can toss to this FBeeEye.”

“Maybe, but we can’t do anything about that,” Ophelia said. “And the simpler we keep things… the less likely we are to get caught up, unless someone starts asking about magical hells.”

“So how do we get home?” Jim asked.

“The old highway—it links to the interstate so it would make sense that someone would drop you off there. It’s about five miles to the outskirts of Arcadia, and you can either make it to our houses or if anyone sees you…” Ophelia shrugged. “They can call the police.”

“In the morning?”  Claire asked. “A walk in the sun?  Count me in!”

“Good,” Barbara said. “Why don’t you two get ready—you’ve got some rags to get into.” Carefully prepared rags, scrubbed of anything inexplicable. “Your parents and I need to finalize some last minute preparations.”

The kids didn’t seem to notice anything, as Toby went off with Jim to talk about his totally “post-apoc” costume. Barbara waited until they were out of hearing range.

“It’s normal,” she said, forestalling Javier’s question. “Jim feels the _need_ to protect Claire and well, he’s always been sort of a mother hen.” She shook her head. “I bet the fact that he had magic armor and she doesn’t…”

“What about Claire?”  Ophelia asked. “This obsession with weapons and armor… Walking off like that…”

“I think that Claire…” Barbara sighed. “Javier, Ophelia, understand something. I’m _not_ a mental health professional. In fact what I’m doing now? Would probably get me yelled at under the category of ‘you don’t provide advice when you’re not qualified to give it’.  I’ve been doing a lot of reading, but I have to be careful about reading too much—or too little—into their behavior, especially since it’s been only a week or so since they were recovered. Short term stress _is_ a thing, and by short-term I mean can last for weeks.  There’s also the fact that Jim and Claire know that they have enemies…” _Please not Gunmar. Please let him be locked up._ The way the two kids tensed at his name let her know just how badly he terrified them. “…So we can’t tell them to just toss everything away and go back to being kids. Like it or not, they know that there are people out there who see them as _targets_.” Then Barbara gestured at the trollmarket. “And they’ve been attacked here. At school. In their homes. In the streets. The kids have been attacked in literally every place they would once have considered a safe space. So I don’t think we can say it’s an obsession with Claire as much as it is wanting to be prepared. And even if there’s a bit of trauma associated with it, that’s normal—many survivors of near starvation often find themselves hoarding food for a time.”

“We can’t let her walk—”

“Nor will we,” Blinky said. “Ophelia, Javier. I or another troll will accompany Fair Claire. Her cultural misstep…” Blinky chuckled. “Well, she’s a human child exposed to a totally new culture. It is to be expected, and your daughter very rarely makes the same mistake twice.”

“And your son?”  Javier asked. “You saw—”

“Yes.” Barbara closed her eyes and pinched at the bridge of her nose. “Jim is… self-sacrificing. Sometimes too much so. So he couldn’t protect Claire from everything in the Darklands, though from what we’ve gotten out of them, she did as much protecting as she received, and now he’s going to make up for it. Fortunately, I don’t think Claire will let him run roughshod over her. It’s another category of things we need to watch out for, but not push on.”  _Add it to the list._

Then, Barbara looked at Ophelia. Javier was fairly easy going, save when his daughter’s virtue was brought up. Not that he minded her entering into a relationship, it just had to be when she was old enough—say, thirty or so.

On the other hand, Ophelia liked to get things done, and if they wouldn’t get done on their own, _make_ them get done. It was very laudable trait in a councilwoman that some people thought might make a stab at the State Assembly next election, but in this case…

“I want you both to remember what I’ve been saying. Don’t push. Watch for dangerous behavior, certainly, but what issues, what trauma, long or short term, that they have, cannot be _made_ to go away. They, with our help, have to work through it. We need to be supportive in this.”

“And if they don’t get better?” Ophelia said, confirming Barbara’s worries.

“Then we cross that bridge when we get to it.”

 

* * *

 

Walter Strickler had been many things over his long life. An enemy of Gunmar was new. But when Nomura had met him a week ago, warning him that Gunmar was almost certainly out…

_“How can you be sure?”  He asked._

_“I can’t. But if Gunmar is out…”_

Strickler shrugged. Nomura was right, which is why they were parked across the street from the Lakes. “The children are still in  Trollmarket?” he asked.

“In the condition they were in, if they were up here, they’d be in the hospital,” Nomura said. “You’re lucky, Walter. Little Gynt must have been going easy on you, let alone both him _and_ his lover.”

“Lover?  Ms. Nunez has crossed that border?”

“Not physically, but if they survive?”  Nomura snorted. “Only a matter of time. At least they didn’t waste any time on that in the Darklands. They were practical.”

Walter winced, face turned away from Nomura. He’d done what he had to do, but he’d always liked Young Atlas. Nomura’s dispassionate relating of their injuries and what had happened to the two children had been painful. Maybe it would have been better had Jim never found the amulet.

_And that wouldn_ _’t have saved him had you opened Killahead Bridge, now would it?  The only worth Atlas would have had then would have been his ability to fill Gunmar’s gullet. Not that you would have stopped them. Hardly a pro-survival trait, to come between Gunmar and his lunch…_

Barbara’s car pulled into the driveway, the woman got out, exhaustion in every step, went in, turning on the lights.

“Let’s go,” Nomura said.

“I…”

“She’s _human_ , and tired, and hardly a fighter,” Nomura said. “Don’t be scared.”

“Young Atlas had never been in a serious fight in his life before he received the amulet.” Walter got out of the car. “I think I’m done underestimating this family.”

Nomura snorted as she got out of the car, walking across the street to the door. Walter knocked on it, and moments later, Barbara answered.

“It’s late so I—” she stopped, staring at Walter. “Draal is down stairs, and my son’s deal with you was a one-time affair, Mr. Strickler. So I hope you’re not here to cause issues.”

“I’m here to offer my and Ms. Nomura’s assistance,” Walter said.

“Ah, because you’re known as the traitor who tried to usurp Gunmar, and Nomura helped Jim and Claire escape. Who said changelings weren’t survivors? I suppose we should be grateful that Gunmar isn’t much on forgiving treason, or you might find another way to survive.”

There were probably arctic storms warmer than Barbara’s voice.

“Barbara, I—”

“Dr. Lake, please. Ms. Nomura, if you wouldn’t mind going to the living room, I have some things that I need to discuss with Mr. Strickler.”

Nomura smirked and walked past Walter.

“I—I understand that you are angry…” Walter started, only to have Barbara poke him in the chest.

“No. You don’t. Do you know what my son did on his fifth birthday?”

Walter blinked at the odd comment. “No—”

“Ate cake. And cried. Especially when his friends left. Because his _father_ walked out the door on his fifth birthday, and never _came back_.” Barbara’s voice was remorseless. “Then, he took care of his mother. His first attempt to cook dinner set the kitchen on fire. But he got better. When I was working through med school, and then my internship, he cooked for me. He helped keep the house up. Because between work, medschool and trying to understand why my _husband_ left me because I was ‘getting too clingy’, I was a _shitty_ mother who could barely cook for myself.  The fact that we still have this house, that I’m a doctor instead of an assistant pharmacist at Walmart—that’s as much _Jim_ as it is me. And it cost him, because believe me, when he was five, he had a lot more friends than just Toby.”

“I—”  Walter didn’t know where this conversation was going.

“Before this year, I would have sooner mistrusted _myself_ than I would have Jim. And then he turns into a burgeoning juvenile delinquent. Someone I don’t recognize, and then, when it’s too late, and he might be _dying_ somewhere I can’t get to, I find out it’s because he’s become a chosen one… And You. Used. Me. Against. My. Son. When I should have been supporting him, I was yelling at him. When he _needed_ me, I was looking at him like I was disappointed in him. And then, when he turned against you, you tied me to yourself with that damned ritual, while you were _in my house_ , smiling at me, wooing me, so that you could use me as a _human shield_ against my son. Tell me, _Walter_ , if there had been a way to break the connection, to leave me dying in Trollmarket, and you free to flee, safe from Rot, from Jim, from Gunmar… What would you have done?”

Walter opened his mouth, closed it. After far too long, Barbara deserved honesty. “I do not know.”

“Well. I didn’t expect that.” Barbara shook her head. “I suppose I deserve some of the blame. Ten years of bad dates and wondering if it was me, if I’d been stupid or just had bad luck with Jim’s father, made me a little too eager. I guess I am just that bad a judge of men.” 

Strickler thought he could hear a heart breaking. He just didn’t know whose heart it was.

“Ms. Lake,” he said quietly. _That is the name you have given me to use, and even if it_ _’s too late, I will respect your will._ “You never turned on Jim. Trust me in this, if nothing else. I have taught many students, seen many families over my lifetimes, and you never took the easy way out.”

“Yeah.”

“And where does this… Do you wish me to leave?”

“No. Jim needs every tool, every ally he can have. You didn’t see them coming out of the Darklands W-Mr. Strickler. They’ll be coming home soon, but they need help.” She took a breath, and raised a hand. “But I’ll work with you. I may forgive you one day. I may even see you as a friend. But I can never trust you. Not after what you did to Jim. And I can never have a romantic relationship with a man I cannot trust.  That’s over.”

“I…” _Ah. So it was_ my _heart_. But it _was_ just.  She had trusted him, and he had broken that trust. He didn’t miss the fact that she hadn’t said “what he did to her” but “what he did to _Jim._ _”_ The mercy she offered was far, far more than he deserved. So be it. “I accept that, and I will do my best to aid Young Atlas.”

“Then come in. I suppose we and Draal have some talking to do.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always disliked the way Barbara seemed to quickly make up with Strickler--when you consider that in addition to everything else, he contributed to a number of murders in Arcadia, as well as essentially working to turn her against her son.   
> Granted, part of it has to do with the short and packed nature of the 3rd season, with Barbara only having one episode to really show that everything was not forgotten, but that was a subplot that really cried out for a more drawn out resolution.


	11. Back To Daylight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jim come back to the surface and various reactions are had.

The road was deserted, the sun just rising over the Horizon when the car stopped, two figures got out, and it drove off. Jim and Claire were wearing ragged clothes, dirty, filthy, and nobody would know how much effort had gone into making them that way.

“It’s…” Claire stared at the sun. _Oh my God. It_ _’s the sun. I’m feeling sunlight on my skin._ There were birds in the trees and she could smell the flowers.

For the first time in _how long?_

“It’s so wonderful.” She noticed that there were tears trickling down her cheeks. _This is what tears of joy feel like_. She looked over at Jim and noticed that he also had the same tears running down his cheeks.

“I… Sometimes I forgot what it looked like,” he said. “The sun, I me”—his voice broke—”mean.

“Yeah.” Claire’s hand found Jim’s, holding it, squeezing his hand. Suddenly, she found herself running down the slope, the grass whipping around their legs, the air rich with pollen, even as birdsong and the hum of insects filled the air on a beautiful September day.

Claire didn’t know who tripped, but all of a sudden they were rolling down the slope in a tangle of limbs, laughing like they’d never laughed before. When they came to a halt, their carefully dirty clothes now stained with all too normal grass and dirt, Claire found Jim straddling her, looking down at her, the sun playing over both of them.

“We…” Claire fell silent for a moment. “We’re out. I sometimes didn’t believe it. But We’re out. Out of the Darklands.”

“Yeah,” Jim said. “God, the _air_ feels like it’s alive…”

Claire knew what he meant. Trollmarket was living, not like the Darklands, but it was still underground, sealed away from the deadly (to trolls) sun by endless meters of rock and dirt. She loved it loved the people in it…

But she’d always known she could go up to the world of the sun and the moon. All those endless days in the Darklands, with no way to tell night from day, just dim…

Claire took a deep breath. That didn’t matter. She was here. _They_ were here.

“You know what I promised I’d do if we got out?”

“What?” Claire asked.

Jim smiled. “This.” He kissed her.

Claire kissed him back, happily. There had been kisses and hugs in the Darklands, but they had been desperate, quick affairs, reminding them that they had each other, that there was someone else there. This… was gentle and loving and spoke to something else—that Jim loved her, even if there were a million others.

Like she loved Jim.

Jim broke off the kiss, and then rolled over, so that they were both lying on their backs, staring up at the sky, blue with fluffy white (oh, was anything ever so beautiful?) clouds floating in it.

“I could stay here all day,” Jim softly said.

“Yeah, but it’d sort of ruin the plan,” Claire said. “Maybe just a few more minutes?”

“Yeah. Just a few.” Jack gripped her hand.

_Just a few_. Claire thought as she closed her eyes and let the warmth of the sun and the joyous breeze play over her.

 

* * *

 

 

Mary Wang was the first one to see them. She was walking along the road, looking at her cellphone, when she heard two people in front of her.

“Mary?”

Mary stopped dead. She knew that voice, even if it sounded a little… She looked up, and perhaps for the first time in her life, her cell phone fell from nerveless fingers. It was…

It was _Claire_.

And she looked _terrible_.

Her hair was going every which way because she didn’t have any hairpins for it, and it looked like it hadn’t so much as cut as it had been hacked—some parts as short as Claire’s normal hairdo, but others longer, stray locks sticking out. Her face was… Strained, some of the flesh pulled tight over her face, like Claire hadn’t been eating right.

“Is that you?” Claire sounded like she’d seen a ghost. Jim looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Which was weird because everyone knew that the parents and teachers were just keeping a good face on things. People didn’t _come back_ after six months. Not when they just vanished one day, right after the Spring Fling. Even the news had stopped talking about them. The little shrines in front of their lockers were looking less and less like prayers for them to come back and more like memorials…

But… But Claire was here. In front of her. Wearing clothes that looked like they’d come out of a garbage bin.

“Claire?” Mary asked, and suddenly she was hugging Claire, bawling like a little girl. Then she was hugging Jim and suddenly _all_ of them were bawling.

When Mary finally got her phone off the ground and called the police, all the crying made it hard for the operator to understand her, but when she finally got the words “Jim and Claire” through…

Suddenly, there were a _lot_ of cops on the street.

 

* * *

 

“We’re not supposed to get involved,” Detective Scott said. He wanted to hit something. “The investigation has been taken over and they want us to back off.”

Calling the kids’ return a “circus” would be an understatement. FBI, DEA, ATF, hell even Homeland Security had gotten in on the affair, and not 30 minutes after they arrived other investigators were flying in from LA.

“The fuck?”  Jack stared at his boss. “FBI horning in?”

“FBI has _also_ been told to butt out.”

That shut Jack up. Granted, every local cop took it as a matter of pride to get annoyed when the Bureau showed up, but nobody doubted their determination to get kidnappers, especially kid-kidnappers. 

_Hell, Will, they have a department of people who do nothing else than watch kiddie porn in the hope that they can get the one little clue that can tell them where it was filmed._   Will loved his daughter Darcie, and so he tried not to think about that job, save to wonder how the men and women doing it avoided eating a bullet after all they had seen.

“Who told them?”

“Very serious men, wearing very good suits, who hail from the National Security Agency, waving little papers from other agencies who I am not even cleared to know the names of.”

“All for a fighting ring in LA.”

“A fighting ring that had kids.”

“Yah,” Jack frowned. “Will, it may have been more than a fighting ring. Call up the internal videos of their interviews and them coming in.”

Will frowned but did as Jack said. Jack, before he’d become part of Arcadia’s PD, had served in the Joint Special Operations Command. His resume as part of the army and later Delta Force had been impressive. The parts he couldn’t talk about probably were even more impressive, although Jack tended to avoid playing up his service. “Military jobs ain’t police jobs” he’d remarked to more than one coworker who was a little over-enamored with his previous job history.

That was one of the reasons why Jack made a hell of a training officer. But right now…

“Okay, what am I seeing?”

“Play it as they’re coming into the station.”

Will nodded, giving thanks that they had a state of the art system, both to protect officers from false accusations and ensure that anything that did happen would be on the record.  “Okay, they look—yeah, he looks pretty hesitant to go in.”

“Nope. He’s _checking the interior_ before he clears it for his girlfriend.” Jack frowned. “You can’t see it from here, but he made a little motion with his hand. Meanwhile, her eyes _weren_ _’t on him_ , but looking around outside. First man in checks the room, person outside stays aware of the exterior. Jack checked it, cleared it, she went in. Now look at this…” He ran the video forward. “See how they’re looking?”

“Yeah?”

“I was there while you were getting in touch with Claire’s mom. They’ve divided the corridor into sectors. He’s taking right, she’s taking left. They’re tense, probably because of all the people around, but they still trust each other to do their job.” Jack wasn’t smiling. “Final bit—when you talked to them, where did they keep their chairs.”

“Push…oh hell. So they could move.”

“Right. So if things went bad, they could start moving _immediately_.”  Jack leaned back, lips compressed. “You don’t learn that from being held in a cage and then tossed into a ring to fight. They’re not acting like kids who have been beaten and held captive, no cringing, no fear…” He gestured at the screen, frozen. “They’re acting a lot more like some of the people _I_ knew, people who have received training _and_ have experience, because you don’t trust your partner like that on the first day you meet him.  Those are habits you learn on the job.”

“I—”  Will shook his head. “Christ, I mean, the Lake kid’s had some problems before he vanished, but it was honestly not malicious, the kind of stupid stuff we all do. You’re saying that…”

“That he, and his girlfriend, have been _well_ trained and have seen some very bad shit.” Jack shook his head. “And that might explain why we’re being told to back off. You don’t do this for involuntary pit fighters, you don’t do this for child soldiers—not normally, because most of the people that use kids see them as… disposable bomb trucks.” For a moment, Jack looked like he was seeing something else.

Something that Will was perfectly happy he’d never seen.

“So, someone out there decided to try and convert kids into _trained_ combatants, and in this case, I think they succeeded—maybe more than they expected. That says terrorist, not criminal and if the higher ups aren’t certain of who is behind it…”

“They don’t want us roaring in and screwing things up.”

“Right. Just enough to make it look like we’re looking… And there’s another reason, Will.”

“What is it?”

“Kids say they don’t remember much, just being forced to fight—but if I’m right, they’re _lying_ about that. Maybe for a good reason. What if they didn’t get out without a body-count?  Law’s pretty firm on self-defense, but someone might have decided to do ‘em a favor and just shuffle anyone they killed on the way out under the carpet, spare ‘em the circus. Maybe we should think about doing the same thing?  Alternately, whoever dropped them off is either having second thoughts, or might actually be an agent who got them out as quickly as he could.  Either case, do we want to open this particular can of worms?”

“Cover up?”

“No cover up, just… Well, we’ve been told to back off, so in this case, we just follow the orders. Kids are back, no sense in risking digging something up that could hurt them more.”

Will stared at the image of the two, sitting in the interview room. Two ordinary kids. Two ordinary kids who had been kidnapped out from under his police department, and been forced to fight for their lives.  The only good news was that the doctors they’d had check the kids confirmed that there had been no evidence of sexual abuse, just a lot of fighting.

“Yeah. I think you’re right. The sooner this goes away, the better.” He shook his head. “Poor damned kids. If you’re right… I don’t think Claire Nunez had ever been in a fight in her life before now.

“She could probably teach a class on it now,” Jack said. “And if that isn’t a crying shame, I don’t know what is.”

 


	12. Night Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can take the Trollhunter out of the Darklands, but can you take the Darklands out of the Trollhunter?

That night, Jim found himself sitting in his room, looking around at the things that had been so normal and were now so strange. The police had interviewed them, the doctors had poked and prodded Claire and Jim and then they’d given them normal clothes, clothes from their parents.

Part of Jim felt bad—so many people were imagining all sorts of horrible things that had happened to them, like the nurse who had quietly (but not quietly enough) reassured Mom that neither Jim nor Claire had been sexually assaulted.

Of course they hadn’t. Gunmar would have been sickened by the very thought. He preferred to beat his enemies into submission— _Claire, her body shivering in his arms after her last beating—_ Jim shook his head. They were here now, out of the Darklands.

_Then why do you keep thinking about that place?_

Jim closed his eyes.  Here he was, his belly full of good food—Mom hadn’t let him cook, they’d gone to an expensive restaurant with Claire, Toby and their families. The meal had been free, and the people around them had quietly watched them, some with curiosity, some with sympathy.

Both Claire and Jim had been nervous. He could _see_ it in Claire’s eyes, and he felt the same.

Too many people. People all around them.

But they kept eating, talking with their parents, and if they’d both had to go to the bathroom a few times to calm down, nobody commented.

And here he was. Getting ready to sleep, and in a few days he’d go to school. 

No sense in waiting. He and Claire were already like crazy banana pants late. _Claire_ might be able to catch up—Jim had doubts about his own chances.

But here he was, and it was time to go to bed.

He rolled over, closed his eyes and fell into an uneasy sleep.

 

_“You turned your back on her. You left her alone.” Gunmar held Claire up in one hand, her head lolling to the side in a way that proved her neck had been broken by the warlord. “A moment’s inattention, Trollhunter, that was all it took!”  He tossed her down at Jim’s feet. Somehow she ended up facing him, her lifeless eyes wide, staring at him accusingly._

_He_ _’d promised to keep her safe._

_He failed._

Jim shot upright, falling out of his bed, frantically scrambling for his phone. He punched out the contact, and waited while it rang.

“Claire, please, be—”

“Jim?”

“Oh thank—Claire, are you okay! Are you safe! I’ll come over, don’t move, stay where you are!”

“Jim, I’m okay—”

“No, Gunmar had you, he…”

“It was a dream,” her voice was soft. “Jim… Wait a moment.” The phone cut off.

_No, what is she doing_ _…_

Moments later, Jim had his answer, as a portal opened into his room and Claire walked out of it. She had an oversized T-shirt on, her bare feet whispering over the carpet.  She looked up and smiled at him, her unclipped hair going every which way.

“I’m here,” she said, touching him lightly on the side of his face. “You don’t have to be afraid for me, Jim…”

“But…”

“Scoot over and make some room in the bed,” Claire ordered, and Jim obediently got back in the bed. He felt Claire arms go around him as she pressed her body into his back. “You can go to sleep, Jim. You’ve _always_ protected me…”

“Not enough,” Jim said.

“Enough for me.”

 Jim could feel her heart beating, the warmth of Claire’s body against his. Her presence. Alive. Safe. He waited until he felt her breath slow, sleep coming upon her, and then he closed his eyes. He was deep asleep in moments, not noticing as the door to the room was pressed open a crack and a pair of eyes widened at the sight within.

 

* * *

 

 

Barbara sighed, walking down to the living room. She’d heard the sound of the portal—she’d heard it before in Trollmarket as Claire retained her skills. But she hadn’t…  The phone rang and Barbara quickly went to it to answer it, before Jim and Claire were woken up.

“Hello, Ophelia… You can stop panicking. Claire is here, she’s sleeping with Jim.”

A few moments later, as she stared at the phone, now disconnected while Claire’s parents were preparing to break the sound barrier in getting to her house, Barbara reflected that she probably could have phrased that better.

Well, at least she could make tea.

 

* * *

 

The tea was a good idea. It slowed Ophelia and Javier up, letting Barbara get her thoughts in order. At least they hadn’t charged up there, and the presence of a sleeping Enrique kept their voices down, so she had a chance to explain what was happening.

“Jim had a nightmare.” She gestured at the ceiling. “I was going to check on him and that’s when Claire showed up.”

“A nightmare!” Ophelia frowned. “What does that have to do—”

“From what he screamed out, evidently he was dreaming that Gunmar broke your daughter’s neck in front of him.” They both fell silent at that, looking stricken.

“He called Claire, and I bet that she just cut out the middleman and came over to sleep with him—and I want to stress _, they are sleeping_.” 

“How long are they goin—”  Javier started, but Ophelia beat Barbara to the punch.

“Our daughter has a teleporting _staff_ ,  Javier. If they wanted to have sex, they could go anywhere.”

“And I don’t think they would,” Barbara said. “Oh, there’s always the chance of a teenage moment of not thinking, but honestly?  They’re still virgins after _six months_ away from parental supervision, and as you said, it’s not as if we could stop them.”  She sighed. “Javier, Ophelia—you have to understand that Jim… Jim took care of _me_ as much as I took care of him after his father abandoned us. It would mortify him to hear me say it, but he has a very protective—almost a _maternal_ attitude about those he cares for. He can also be very self-sacrificing, possibly to an unhealthy degree. My bet is that now that they’re safe from Gunmar ( _please be true),_ he’s beating himself up over everything that _did_ happen, and everything that _didn_ _’t_ happen, but might have.”

It was Javier that spoke. “And Claire…” He smiled. “She came over to take care of _him_.”

“Y—” Barbara’s voice broke. _Oh my boy, my brave boy. Why did this have to happen to you and your friends?_ “Yes.”

“It’s not going to stop, is it?” Ophelia said, her hands moving in her lap. She was clearly looking for something to _do_ , to make things better.

“I think…” Barbara sighed. “That it _will_ get better. Remember, they’ve been out on the surface for less than two days. We can’t force things, but I think we should let them do this, but now we have to decide if we let them—”

“Yes,” Javier said. Claire’s father nodded. “We tell them, that if they need to be together, we’ll support them. Jim protected my little girl in the Darklands, the least we can do is let her do the same.”

Barbara nodded, then smiled. “And I see your ulterior motive, Javier. If they know, we know, then they’ll be less…”

“It can’t hurt.”

Barbara shook her head. “Well, I can’t blame you for being protective.” She shook her head. “I just hope school goes well.”  _Because if Jim can_ _’t get through the night without Claire…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Javier, remember his reaction to: we fight monsters in the dark of the night was "Still better than the alternative." One wonders what his teenage years were like to be so worried...


	13. Chatting with Barbara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire chats with Barbara about relationships--and memories.

When Claire woke up that morning, she felt the comforting warmth of Jim’s body, her arms still around him.

It was strange. In the Darklands, they’d slept on stone, or at most a lumpy bedroll liberated from one of Gunmar’s stash, the fabric passed through a fetch like so much other junk. Claire sometimes wondered if Gunmar even cared what came through.

But they’d always been cold, even together. Even when they slept near the steam vents and lava, there was something about the Darklands, something that _pulled_ the heat from you, leaving you feeling cold, no matter how hot the air was.

Even the trolls had felt it. The Darklands were a place hostile to life, be it human or troll.

And here she was, the alarm buzzing in the background, Jim’s body pressed into hers.

Warm.

The sun was shining in through the window, the light playing across the bed and gleaming off of Jim’s hair.

Jim was still asleep.

That was good. He hardly _ever_ slept when they had been in the Darklands, his scarlet armor always gleaming in the night. Claire had been forced to put her foot down the fourth time he’d taken her watch, staying up through the endless night while she slept.

 

_“It won’t help anything if you fall over,” she’d snarled. “I can protect myself.”_

_“But I’m the one with the ar—”_

_“And I’m the one with the magic staff. Jim. We have to do this together.”_

 

She shook her head at that. At least he was getting sleep. Good sleep. The alarm hadn’t even woken him up, and she should probably think about getting back ho—

Claire’s brain shut off for a moment as she stared at the chair.  The chair with her bathrobe draped over it, clothes under it.

She hadn’t brought that.

Someone else had brought it. Which meant someone else had…

Oh.

Then there was a light tapping at the door. Jim barely stirred.

_Please don_ _’t yell. Jim needs his sleep._

_“_ Come in…” Claire said softly and then the door opened.

And there was Dr. Lake.

Jim’s mom.

Jim’s mom staring at Jim and Claire, both under the covers, in the same bed, Claire’s arms still around Jim.

“Do you think he’ll stay asleep if you come downstairs?”

Claire frowned. She didn’t know.

“Well, we’ll stay here and I’ll keep my voice down.” 

Claire nodded, mutely. This really wasn’t how she’d expected Jim’s mother to react.  She stated to disentangle herself from Jim, sliding out from the bed, keeping one hand in his. Jim sighed once, then relaxed, and then Claire was facing Barbara, wearing her oversized T-shirt, panties, and well…

Not much else.

“Jim doesn’t usually sleep this late, but I figure he’s earned it.”

“Yes.” Claire lightly brushed one of his bangs back from his face, then stopped, realizing what she’d done and who was watching. She blushed.  “He…  Yes.” She couldn’t explain it all to Dr. Lake, not if she had a thousand years.

“You can’t explain it, because how do you tell someone who doesn’t feel it, that the person you’re with has become a part of you.” She smiled, as Claire wondered how she’d read her mind. “Or more formally, ‘one flesh’.”  She shrugged. “In Trollmarket, you had beds right next to each other, and we assumed it was just the oddity of the location. Silly us.”

“How grounded am I?”  Claire finally asked.

“Not at all, though we’d like warning.”  Barbara looked out the window. “You and Jim have been hurt, badly. Mentally, emotionally, and physically. You _had_ abundant opportunities to have sex, and as Ophelia said, if you wanted to find a place here, you have a teleporting staff.”

_My mother—_ Claire shook her head. “We aren’t going to do that. It’s just that Jim… Jim needs me. If I’m not around he has nightmares.”

“I know. I heard one. He thought that Gunmar broke your neck.”

Claire closed her eyes. “He almost did. Once. When he fought me—no, when he _beat_ me, he always made certain that Jim was watching. In a cage, held down. Unable to help. Unable to h—”

_“Look at her, Trollhunter. So broken. And this mewling fleshbag is your consort—”_

“Claire. Look at me.”

Claire looked up, shivering.

“You zoned out. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Dr. Lake paused, and looked at Claire. “And, if you’ll humor me… why not?”

_Why not wha—_ Claire’s brain came to a halt again, and she looked down at Jim. “Aren’t you supposed to, um, threaten me or tell us how terrible it would be?”

“It depends on the reasons. So why not?”

“I’m… We’re…” Claire paused. “Not ready.” She opened her mouth, closed it, then shook her head. “Not ready.” She couldn’t explain it any better than that.

“That’s a good reason.” Barbara smiled. “And it’s pretty much what most of us try to get across. Wait—until you are ready for that step. It’s a pretty big one.”

She stood up. “You can use my shower after you get Jim woken up, unless—”

“No, that’d be fine,” Claire said, then blinked at Dr. Lake’s teasing look.

“I know, Claire. And thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being with my son.”

Then, she was gone, and Claire was sitting in the room with Jim.

“Jim…” Claire said softly and moments later, he was upright in bed, looking around.

“How late did I sleep?”

“A little later than we expected.”

“Oh, man!” Jim smacked himself in the head. “Claire, if your parents find out—I’m sorry!”

“That’s sort of already happened,” Claire said, pointing to her clothes. “Dr. Lake said I can use her shower, so I guess we should get dressed. We’ve only got one weekend until school, after all.”

“Yeah—wait, _Mom_ knows?”

“And approves.” Claire smiled at him. “But let’s get ready for the day.”

Jim looked out at the window, and smiled. “Yeah. Let’s get ready.” He leaned over and kissed Claire on the cheek.

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” Claire said, picking up her clothes as she shrugged the robe on.

After that, for the first time, they would wander the city.

The city she’d never dreamed she would see again.

 

 


	14. Movies and Trauma

Toby and Darcie had been waiting for this day, as Jim and Claire came out of Jim’s house, smiling. They had their bikes—Jim had his Vespa, but Toby and Darcie couldn’t keep up, so Jim had forgone his Vespa in exchange for his old bike. Claire was smiling at Darcie, Toby’s girlfriend telling her everything that had happened.

“So, you’re official now?” Claire asked.

“Yep.” Darcie smiled.

“Right on, Toby,” Jim said.

“Yeah, well after we had a chance to talk…” Toby ducked his head, “and after her dad gave me the third degree.”

“It wasn’t the third degree!” Darcie protested. “Dad sort of likes you!”

“He had a _spotlight_ on me!”

“See!”

“Oh, you’ve got to tell me about your guys first date!” Claire said.

“Um…” Toby looked over at Jim. “Jimbo, a little help?”

“Why?” Jim asked.

“It sort of…” Toby’s voice trailed off.

“Eli and Steve were at the golf park and it… Sort of caught fire.” Darcie looked over at Toby. “Next thing I know, Toby’s ran off to try and put it out, and there was all this slime on the 18th hole, and then the fire department and dad showed up.”

While Darcie’s back was turned, Toby mouthed “goblins” to Jim and Claire.

“And then, Dad gave my TP _another_ third degree…” Darcie said with a giggle. “Oh, There’s Mary!” Mary came rolling up on her own bike.

“Sorry everyone, Mom had chores for me to do and she _threatened_ to take my phone away.”

“Wow.” Claire raised an eyebrow. “That’s terrible.”

“I know, can you imagine being out of touch with your friends for—” Suddenly Mary flushed, stuttered and ducked her head. “Anyway, I’m here, so what are we all doing!”

“Shannon’s with her mom in LA, so she can’t make it,” Darcie said. “But why don’t we just look around town and find some stuff to do.”

“That would be…”  Jim smiled. “That would be great.”

“Hey Claire Bear,” Darcie said. “Are you changing your stripe?”

“What?” Claire said.

“It’s got some white in it.” 

Claire blinked and pulled out her compact, staring at her hair. Now that Darcie had brought it up, Toby could see some of the white strands in her hair, mostly growing out from the roots.

_That’s freaky._

“Nah…” Claire said. “Maybe it’s just… I dunno.”

“Well, it looks great!” Mary said. “So, are we going to sit here all day?”

“How about Arbato’s?”  Toby said. “They have a new guacamole pizza topping…”

“Y-yes!” Claire said, practically bouncing on her bike. “Yes, please!”

Jim grinned. “I’ll take it.”

“Good!” Mary said. “Anyone wanna race?”

“Nah,” Jim said. “Let’s sightsee.”

The four friends took their time, leisurely biking through Arcadia, and if more people than normal waved to Jim and Claire, nobody brought it up. They talked about the school, the students, and other events of great import.

Neither Mary nor Darcie asked about Jim and Claire’s experiences.

“So, Steve and Eli are friends now,” Darcie said. “And nobody saw _that_ coming. Well, that and Coach is engaged to Steve’s mom—”

“What?” Jim almost hit a trash can. “You’re kidding. Steve was putting Eli in lockers, the last time I saw him.”

“He mellowed. He also got in trouble.”

“For what?”

“Believe it or not?”  Darcie looked around. “He _stole_  my costume and went down to the port of LA and ran around freaking the guards out. They were _really_ pissed, because someone got into the cargo storage area and _stole a shipping container_. If something valuable had been stolen, Steve would have been in _real_ trouble, but it was just a bunch of rocks they were supposed to dump off the coast. Man, he was grounded for a month.”

Toby saw Jim and Claire start to make the connections. He hadn’t told them a lot of that while they were underground, because well, he didn’t want to get into those terrible months where he’d thought he would never see his friend again. Just that Steve and Eli had been helping them and were in on the secret. _I better tell them more about that later._

The meal was great, with Claire and Jim digging into it with gusto. Toby was happy that they didn’t have that ravenous look they’d had the first few days back in Trollmarket.  They were eating, not gorging.

It was then that a truck stopped down the street, behind Claire and Jim.  The rear gate fell down with a crash—

And suddenly Claire and Jim were kicking their chairs back, spinning around, eyes wildly looking for the threat. Darcie gave an involuntary shriek of surprise. Mary just sat, eyes wide.

“It’s okay, Jimbo.” Toby waited until the two turned back to him, breathing heavily. “Just a truck.”

“Yeah,” Claire said. “Just a truck.”

Toby blinked. Claire didn’t have her staff—that would have been impossible to explain, but it looked like something had dropped into her hand from her sleeve—a bright, sharp… _throwing_ spike?  Darcie and Mary hadn’t seen it, and Claire quickly concealed it, but Toby frowned.

_We’re like, in broad daylight, Claire. Why are you carrying a knife?_ On the other hand, Claire and Jim had gone through a lot. They were still jumpy.

But after lunch, they wandered around the town, Jim and Claire content to let the others lead them. Darcie had pointed to the theater and grinned.

“It’s Danger House Two!”

“Really?”  Jim shook his head. “I thought it would be in stores by now.”

“Nah, it was a really big hit,” Toby said. “They say a Danger House Three is in the works.”

“ _And,_ Mary said, “We’re just in time for the showing.”

“That’s great!” Jim said. “But…Where’s your date Mary?”

“I am _between_ boyfriends at this point,” Mary said, adopting an arrogant tone. “I’ll see it again, so I know what parts I need to grab my future boyfriend’s arm so he can comfort me.”

“Or you could share Toby,” Claire said as she strolled past.

“Share Toby?”  Darcie said. “We share makeup, not boyfriends!”

“Oh boy,” Toby said. “Claire, you do not know the horror you may have unleashed. Let’s go!”

 

* * *

 

The movie was everything you could want in a horror show, clueless family moving into house, house with a dark past, strange shadowy figure that was starting to stalk the clueless family. Toby enjoyed it. On one side was Darcie, Mary to her Side, while Claire sat between him and Jim, Jim on the aisle seat.

“Oh, here comes the baby scene.” Mary said softly before Darcie shushed her.

_Yeah, the bab—Oh. Shit._ It wasn’t Darcie and Mary’s fault—as far as they knew, Enrique had been safe at home. But Claire and Jim had been hunting for Enrique, and then fleeing with him and then…

Claire’s fingers came down on his arm with bone-crushing force as the main character’s wife started down the stairs, the sound of the crying child (actually being played by the bad guy to lure her to her doom) filled the theater. Her increasingly panicked cries for the baby came in time with Claire’s attempts to turn Toby’s forearm bones to powder… And then she and Jim were gone.

Toby wondered how he could disengage from Darcie, but Mary saved him. “Where are Claire and Jim.”

“She um, had to go out for a few minutes.”

Mary seemed shallow at times, but there was a reason she was in the know about every social interaction in school. “She’s upset about the movie?”

“I think…” S _hit. Shit, shit, shit._  A suspicious Mary would start asking questions and she was _way_ too perceptive to risk that. “She really missed Enrique, while they were… you know.”

“Oh—I’m an idiot!” Darcie said, ignoring a hiss from the front. “Let’s go.”

“That’s not—” But then Toby had to move to keep from being run over by the two girls.

 

* * *

 

Outside, they found Claire, sitting in one of the chairs used by the cafe next to the theater. Jim had bought her some tea and was kneeling where she was in her chair. Claire wasn’t facing them, but from the way she was hunched over, back tense and quivering, it wasn’t good.

“Claire—” Darcie started and then fell silent as Clarie looked up at them. She’d been crying.

Mary made a soft sound of dismay.

“It…” Claire paused. “I really missed Enrique. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. I tried to get Jim to go  back in—”

“Nah, we’ve all seen it before.” Toby grinned. “So, you wanna go do something else?”

Jim shook his head. “We’ve gotta get ready for school and…” He gestured in the vague direction of home. “We’re a little  tired. Probably did too much stuff today.”

“Want us to come with you?”  Toby asked.

“Nah, you guys have fun!” Jim said as he held out Claire’s helmet. Claire, still silent, got onto her bike and headed off, Jim following her.

Toby sighed and felt Darcie’s hand in his, giving him a comforting squeeze.

“Dad said it might take them a while to, you know, get over what happened to them. That we need to give Jim and Claire time.”

“Yeah.” Toby shook his head. “Maybe…” _But Detective Scott was assuming everything is over, and it_ isn’t _._ After all, Jim was still the Trollhunter. Just like Claire. Just like Toby, and they _both_ thought Gunmar was out. Even if he wasn’t… there was still the Janus order to deal with.

They should be able to take it easy, but they knew they couldn’t.

“Yeah,” Toby repeated. “They just need some time.”


	15. Interludes and Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vendel and the Queen Chat, while Claire gets new toys.

“The Tribunal will, of course, find James Lake innocent.” Usurna paced by Vendel, her bodyguards creating a bubble of calm within the otherwise bustling Trollmarket.

“I had not thought you were so sympathetic.”

“I’m not, Vendel, but their parents know, and I doubt they would be interested in keeping our secrets if the price was _their_ children’s welfare and whatever happens to James Lake…  Well. With Gunmar _and_ the Janus order out, the last thing we need is a horde of humans, especially human _military forces_ seeking us out.”

“There have been breaches before,” Vendel said. “And they came to nothing.”

“How many years has it been since you were on the surface?”  Usurna asked. “The humans have _changed_.  For the last 60 years, many trolls’ lives have dangled by a thread, and they didn’t even know it. Humanity has weapons—weapons more terrible than anything Gunmar ever dreamed of.”  She shook her head. “If I had been here when the amulet had chosen the boy…”

“What? Killed him?” Vendel asked.

“Possibly,” Usurna’s voice was calm. “Or maybe destroyed the amulet. We have tied ourselves to Merlin’s will for far too long.”

“And yet, as I recall, you barely moved to fight Gunmar in the last war.”

“Of course. It would have been difficult to convince him I supported him all along had I openly moved against him.”

Vendel said nothing. He knew exactly what measures Usurna had taken, but speaking of them openly…

No, he didn’t want to deal with someone trying to murder the queen.

“And now?”

“Now, presuming Gunmar is out, he is separated from his armies save for the impure.” Usurna gestured. “It is the best chance to kill him, once and for all.”

“For which we will need the Trollhunt—”

“For which we will need _an army_ , Vendel.  No Trollhunter has ever come close to _killing_ Gunmar. It was only by enlisting the aid of Trollmarket that James Lake was able to defeat Angor Rot.  Merlin’s Champions may have protected the trolls, but they cannot secure a final victory.”

“Armies.”  Vendel shook his head. “That is closer to the ways of Gunmar—or the humans.”

“Then let us hope that our current Trollhunter survives—since he _is_ a human.”

Vendel frowned, then turned to face Usurna. “And what then. If he survives. Will you reconvene the Tribunal?”

“Of course. We will thank James Lake, and reward him.”

“How?”

“Destroy the Amulet, Vendel. If Gunmar is cast down, there is no _need_ for a trollhunter any more, and I certainly doubt he will curse us for giving him back a chance to die in bed, the way so many fleshbags want to die, instead of eternal battle until he becomes old and feeble—and then dies anyway.”

“Hmmm…” Vendel shook his head. “Destroy the amulet… Such thoughts veer upon Heresy to most of Trollkind.”

“Then trollkind should learn to stand on its own two feet, instead of hiding behind heroes who were delivered a death sentence the moment they took up the Amulet.”

With that, Usurna swept off, leaving the elder behind her.  Vendel shook his head. _Destroy the amulet. Ridiculous._ And yet… James Lake and his companions had grown on Vendel. Granted, sometimes like a particularly persistent fungus infestation, but yet he could not pretend that the image of James Lake Jr., fighting year after year, spending his entire short life in the service of Trollmarket was not… Troubling.

Vendel spoke little for the rest of the day. 

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

When Claire and Jim got back to his house, Claire had almost completely recovered. Her mood was even further improved by hearing that Gara had completed her armor.

“That was fast.”

“Not for Forgemaster Gara, Master  Jim,” Blinky said. He chuckled, his six eyes gleaming in the light of the basement. “In fact, for her, this project positively _crawled_.”

“Can I go see it? Now?” Claire was practically jumping up and down.

“She will be meeting us in the Heroes forge—and your parents will also be joining us.” Blinky nodded. “They are quite insistent on seeing what Gara has made for you.”

“Oh.” Some of Claire’s joy dimmed.

“C’mon, Claire,” Jim said. “You can show off!” _And we can spar a little bit._

Even so, it was several hours later before they were all gathered at the Forge, Toby included. Gara was chatting with Vendel, before she turned and nodded at Claire.

“It’s been a while since I came up here,” Gara said. “Better me up here than you tromping down to my forge.”  She shook her head, eyes gleaming. “He,” a thumb jerked in Blinky’s direction, “seemed to think that you’d be challenged by every troll down there.”

“Would I?”

“Only a few.” Gara’s powerful form moved to a table. “I had problems—I looked at _human_ armor…” she reached down and held up some books. “You don’t use armor that much anymore, and your visions…” the book fell open to an image that had Claire blushing, “aren’t that useful. Besides, you’re…”

_“Nobody_ is that endowed,” Ophelia muttered.

“As you say, and I thought you’d prefer to not have armor that guides the blow to your heart. So, here you are.”

The armor was in several pieces. Claire picked up the undercoat, something that looked like a motorcycle suit, only made of metal—metal that looked like it had been _woven,_ the purple material shining in the light.  “This is…”  She went behind a little partition, provided by Blinky.  “Incredible! It feels like…” Claire came out, the suit conforming to her body almost like a second skin. She did some stretches and then a few spins.

“It has to be flexible, to fit your fighting type.  If you don’t have any choice,” Gara said, “it can be used by itself. It’ll stop most arrows and fleshbag bullets.  If you get hit, the force is distributed across the armor, so you hopefully will get bruises, not broken bones.  But don’t trust in that—if you get hit hard enough…”

“It’s cool,” Claire said. “Does the armor have… air conditioning?”

Gara barked out a laugh. “Good. Trolls don’t worry about that, so most troll armor would broil you in your own flesh. I had to figure out how to conduct the heat away from you, which took some thought.”

Claire reached down and picked up the breastplate, the metal formed to match her torso, and fastened it, the light metal seeming to just fall into place. Then came the vembraces, and Clarie smiled at the little fastening points for throwing spikes. The rest of the pieces fell into place, and finally, the helmet. A single gem was set into it, right above the open space for her face.

“What’s the Gem for?”

“Two things,” Gara said. “First, it’s a warding spell for your face. Not as good as steel, but you need to be able to _see_ so I couldn’t just put metal there.  Secondly, when things get dark, the gem will concentrate the light so you can see.”

“Cool,” Toby said. “Night vision goggles.”

“What happens if someone tosses a flare at her?” Javier asked.

“Nothing. It’ll adjust,” the troll said, sounding offended at the implication that such a simple trick would work on her products.

“This is—this is—Great!” Claire did a pirouette, as she fastened her short sword to her back, the staff attached to her hip.  Throwing knives were fastened to her side, easily available, just like her spikes. 

“So, where’s my armor?” Toby asked.

“I’ll take your measurements in Blinky’s chambers,” Gara said. “Unless you’d prefer to strip here…”

“I’ll wait,” Toby said, nervously looking at the others.  Meanwhile, Jim had called his armor, and he and Claire were sparring, their laughter echoing through the hall. Gara folded her arms, nodding in satisfaction at the way Claire could move.

“Remember,” she called. “The armor isn’t impenetrable. You still have to dodge.”

“Oh, I’m _all_ about the dodging!” Claire said, vanishing into a portal, only to appear behind Jim, Daylight meeting her short sword in a clash of sparks.

“She looks happy,” Javier said.

“I haven’t seen her this happy since we got her the instruments for Mama Skull,” Ophelia said. She looked down. “And now she’s that happy about weapons and armor.”  Moments later, Javier took his wife’s hand and gave it a light squeeze.

Claire didn’t notice. She was armored, armed, _powerful._

_Nobody can take this away from me._

_I_ _’ll die, first._   She jumped through another portal. She had used the staff in the Darklands, often being the only thing that kept them alive, and it had been getting _easier_. When she’d first had it, generating more than a few portals could exhaust her, but now, only the most extensive use tired her out.

_I wonder how long it will be before I don_ _’t get tired at all…_ Claire grinned at that as she ducked under Jim’s swing, coming up with a thrust with the staff, even as Jim tried to trip her. Between the armor and the staff, Claire was _never_ going to let someone claim they had broken her.

Never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that Usurna is... a bit different than she was in canon. 
> 
> I also cordially hated Claire's armor-- all the spikes seemed designed to get hung up on something and the claws? Great if you're talking about CQC with humans. Against animated rock creatures? Not so much.


	16. First Day Back at School

When Monday dawned, Claire and Jim were already up and ready. This time, Jim had slept over at the Nunez’s home, with Javier visibly struggling to not “accidentally walk past” their door every ten minutes. But the two were up and ready for school.

When they got there, Jim and Claire suddenly paused, as dozens of students clapped and cheered. “I—” Claire fell silent.

Jim was silent as well. What to say? They didn’t know, but here they were, cheering them, cheering thier return. He swallowed around a suddenly large lump in his throat.

“Mr. Lake, Ms. Nunez,” Senor Uhl gestured at the two of them. “If I could speak to you?”

Jim followed Uhl, Claire by his side, into Strickler’s office.

_I wonder if all the magical stuff is gone?_ Jim thought. Surely, if Strickler was on the outs with the Order, he would have removed it.

But on the other hand, Strickler tended to keep things close to his chest.

“You are aware that you have fallen well behind your expected progress.” Uhl said. “In fact, there was some thought of having you repeat your sophomore year.”

Jim bit his lip. Sitting in class surrounded the strangers…

“But, we all agree that after your experience, you should spend as much time as possible with your classmates. He handed them their schedules. “That means that you will, in place of your study period, have individual tutoring with the faculty, along with possible after school tutoring if it becomes needed. Your _diligent_ work on this will ensure that you can graduate with the rest of your class.”

“Thanks!” Jim said.

“Thank me with your work.” Uhl looked over at Claire. “Miss Janeth has convinced me to allow you to take her advanced drama class, due to your performance. You must maintain at least a B average to continue in her elective.”

“I will,” Claire said.

Moments later, they were in the hallway. “So… We’re not sharing all the same classes.” Claire said.

“I… Maybe we…” Jim was holding on to her hand. Claire shook her head.

“Jim. It’s school. I’ll never been more than a minute away.”

“If you need any—”

“I’ll call.” She kissed him on the cheek and smiled. “We’re back to ordinary days.”

“Yeah.” Jim shook his head. “School and grades. You know, I never thought I’d consider meeting Uhl the Unforgiving the high point of the day.”

“Yeah. Love you.”

“Love you to.”

Even so, Jim almost followed Claire as she walked down the hallway, her trademark skirt and jacket looking odd without stains and slashed fabric. Then Jim took a deep breath and headed for his own class.

 

* * *

 

Claire tried to stay calm. It wasn’t anything special—she just felt strange, being surrounded by people talking about class or dates, or everything else that was normal. Even after their time out of the Darklands, it was hard sometimes to remember that dodging patrols and ambushing stragglers wasn’t something everyone did. Everyone here just had to worry about classes and dates and not— _Enrique looking up, chubby faced creased in to a smile, while the gleaming blade descended towards his throat—_ Claire took a deep breath, and forced herself back to Ms. Janeth’s class.

“Now, we’re going to review Romeo and Juliette, as a romantic work,” Janeth said.

Claire frowned. She’d loved the play, but…  She shook her head, and just resolved to keep her head down. Ms. Janeth was clearly just using it so she wouldn’t be as behind as she had been…

But then Shannon started talking.

“I think it was romantic, I mean, to refuse to let people keep you apart, even if you have to die for it, Romeo wanted to be with Juliet so much that he killed himself. That was reall—”

“No!” Claire snapped. “That’s not the lesson of Romeo and Juliet.” For a moment, she wondered why she was talking. Hadn’t she sworn to _not_ get involved, but suddenly the words were just bubbling up.

Darcie blinked. “But you thought it was so romant—”

“It wasn’t! It was stupid and tells people that when life gets _too hard_ , you just kill yourself. You don’t! You never do that! You fight and you keep fighting and when you think you can’t do it anymore, you pick yourself up off the ground and _do it all over again_!” She was shouting now, Claire dimly realized.

Darci and Mary actually scooted their chairs back. At some point, Claire had stood up, her voice loud in the suddenly quiet room. “You don’t give _up_.” She said. “That’s the worst thing you can do, to _give up_ , because it’s too…” suddenly the heat ran out of her voice “…hard.” She paused, and her voice was quiet. “Because if you do, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. _You_ know you gave up.” _A knife at Enrique’s throat, the blade gleaming in the light of the Darklands…_

Then she looked around, eyes wide. Everyone was staring at her, Miss Janeth frozen by the white board. Claire looked back down at the chair, shook her head. “’M sorry,” she mumbled, sitting down.

“That’s perfectly fine, Claire,” Miss Janeth said, “getting passionate about a play’s message is part of the learning process.”

But everyone was still staring at her.

Then Miss Janeth tilted her head. “What story would you consider _not giving up_ that also embodied the theme of death _?_

“That’s… That’s easy.” Claire thought back to those endless days in the Darklands, when they’d told each other stories from memory. Funny stories, scary stories…

And one story in particular.

 Claire closed her eyes and started speaking:

 

_“Now news came to Hithlum that Dorthonion was lost and the sons of Finarfin overthrown, and that the sons of Fëanor were driven from their lands. Then Fingolfin beheld the utter ruin of the Noldor, and the defeat beyond redress of all their houses; and filled with wrath and despair he mounted upon Rochallor his great horse and rode forth alone, and none might restrain him. He passed over Dor-nu-Fauglith like a wind amid the dust, and all that beheld his onset fled in amaze, thinking that Oromë himself was come: for a great madness of rage was upon him, so that his eyes shone like the eyes of the Valar. Thus he came alone to Angband's gates, and he sounded his horn, and smote once more upon the brazen doors, and challenged Morgoth to come forth to single combat. And Morgoth came…”_

By the time Claire had finished the tale of the duel at the gates, the rest of the class was staring at her.

“I’m amazed at your recall,” Ms. Janeth said. “In fact, I think you got it nearly perfect, and the passion you put into the words…”  She smiled. “I wonder if we might pick one of the smaller parts of Tolkien’s works for our next play.”  The bell rang and the class got up and started to leave, but Janeth gestured for Claire to wait.

“Yes, Ma’am?” Claire asked.

“Claire… Tell me, who do  _you_ see yourself as in that book?” 

Claire blinked. She’d never really thought of it, but given everything that had happened, that she’d done, been forced to do, there was really only one choice.

“Túrin Turambar.”

“Ah. Well, then, off to class with you!” Claire smiled and walked out, joining Darcie and Mary.

But Janeth stood still, looking out into the corridor as it slowly cleared.  Turin’s story had not ended well. In fact, just like Romeo and Juliet it had ended in suicide after he had lost and destroyed everything he loved… 


	17. School Troubles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Claire are back in school, but not without complications...

The next few days went quietly. The parents, with Blinky’s support, had suggested no drilling in the Heroes Forge, in order to speed the process of getting used to being in school.

Blinky, surprisingly, had been effusive in his agreement. “Master Jim, there has been no sign of trouble—not even missing pets!” He smiled and gestured around Jim’s living room. “We cannot predict the future, but for the present? Now is your and the fair Claire’s opportunity to, how do you put it, ‘live the good life?’ Enjoy school, enjoy your friends and trust in our vigilance. Besides, Tobias’ armor is not yet ready.”

Jim and Claire looked at each other, then nodded. “Okay, Blinky,” Jim said. “We’ll try, but if you hear _anything…_ ”

“I will speak to you immediately.” Blinky patted Jim on the shoulder. “Master Jim, you and Claire have both been through a terrifying experience, and you have performed _magnificently_. Better than most trollhunters have for their entire life. Be content.”

_If only you knew…_ Jim kept his smile fixed upon his face. 

 

* * *

 

Toby found himself in an unfamiliar position, at least for Jim and Claire.

Mom.

They forgot things. Sometimes lunch, sometimes homework, and Toby had to remind them. It wasn’t like they were scatterbrained, but that sometimes they just got lost in their thoughts and memories.

So Toby manned up.

Toby was honest. He would never be a scholar. Not like Claire. He couldn’t just look at a book and understand it—even with the help of a potion. A warrior like Jim? Nah. He was the sidekick, the NPC, the helpful guy.

Which was fine, because right now, that was _exactly_ who they both needed. Someone who wasn’t trying to help them, or fix them. Someone who was just _there_.

A wingman.

“Jim?” Toby yelled as he walked into the house. Dr. Lake had been called out for an unexpected emergency.

“About ready,” Jim said, finishing up with fixing lunch, before he slid it into the three bags.

“I’m ready!” Claire said as she came down the stairs.

That, Toby, had to admit, was one of the weirdest things. Trolls? Strange. Parents, leaving Jim and Claire, Jim and Claire _in the same bed_ , alone and not talking about military school was…

Well, maybe not as weird as you’d think. Draal had told him about Jim’s nightmares when Claire wasn’t there.

“Ready?” Jim asked as he handed Toby’s lunch to him.

“Ready!” Claire repeated, taking Jim by the hand and kissing him on the cheek.

“Uh, Claire?” Toby asked, pointing towards her book bag on the counter.

“Oh, _right!”_ She blushed and grabbed the books. “ _Now_ we’re ready.”  Claire winced, putting one hand on her stomach.

“Something wrong?” Jim asked, coming to instant readiness.

“Nah, just a little cramp,” Claire said. “And we’ll have worse if we’re late to school!”

 

* * *

 

 

For a time, Toby could pretend that everything was normal. Claire and Jim were laughing as they rode to school (but they kept away from alley openings and dense clusters of trees), but all too soon, they were at school, and everyone was greeting them.

But not coming up and slapping Jim on the back. Steve had done that, and Jim hadn’t _hurt_ him, but the sudden expression on his face as he turned around had been…

_Scary_. Toby was very, very happy that Steve had given up most of his bullying ways, because he really wasn’t certain how it would play out. The rest of the kids, almost without realizing it, had started to make certain they talked to Jim and Claire before they got behind them, or better yet, just stayed in their view. The teachers had adjusted their seating charts so that the two were always in the back row, a solid wall behind them.

_It’s like they expect someone to jump out and get them,_ Toby thought. But then, Angor Rot and the Pixies, Bular, the Changelings who could _walk around in the daytime…_

Maybe they were right.

At least the town was quiet. Not even any goblins. Which had disappointed both Steve and Eli, who had scavenged enough gear to look like rejects from a bad JRPG, and who were raring to see if their new tactics would work.

But if there were goblins, then no _way_ would anyone be able to keep Jim and Claire from getting back into action. The longer things stayed quiet, the happier Toby was. That way, he could just keep making certain they didn’t forget things and help them get back into the groove of school.

Of course, Jim had other challenges.  Senor Uhl had decided to _personally_ tutor him in Spanish.  Jim entered the office, every fourth period, like he was going to his doom.

On the other hand, Jim looked like he would _pass_ Spanish, and thus stay with his class. During that period, Toby was with Claire.

Math. Bleugh.

But this time, Claire was looking odd. Wincing, rubbing her belly, biting her lip. Finally, she raised her hand. “Ms. Sims?”

“Yes, Claire?”

“May I have a pass for the bathroom.”

“That was what passing period was—”

“It’s not…” She winced again. “It’s not that.”

“Oh. Yes, go,” Sims said.

Claire was up and out of the room, bending over before she got to the door. Toby frowned. _Ten minutes till we’re out._

Claire didn’t return. “Darcie,” Toby said. “Can you check on Claire?” 

“Sure, TP,” Darcie said as they entered the hall. She walked in. “Clair—Ohmigod.” There was a pause, and Darcie popped out. “Toby, she’s not here, and there’s…” she blushed. “Some blood on the toilet.”

It was then that Toby heard the sound of the ambulance.

* * *

 

 

“I knew I should have been in that class!” Jim growled. He’d and Claire didn’t share fourth period—she didn’t need to make up the same classes Jim did, so he had been trapped in tutoring. 

“Jim,” Toby said. “Darcie said it was probably her—”

“Period,” Jim said. “And they were bad, _really bad_ , and I should—”

“Geez, Jim,” Mary said. “It’s not something that doesn’t happen to all of us. Don’t get—”

“You _don’t understand!”_ The hallway rang as Jim pulled his hand back and smashed it into the locker. Mary and Darcie jumped, as Eli and Steve stared.

Jim hadn’t just hit the locker. The metal had crumpled around his fist and for a moment Toby thought he saw a flicker—like an armored gauntlet.

_Oh boy, No, Jim, don’t armor up, not here—_ ”Hey, why don’t we call your mom,  Jim?  She’ll be with Claire, so maybe you can talk!” He desperately looked at Eli and Steve, hoping they’d get the point.

Eli did. “Yeah—I can tell Ms. Janeth that you’ll be late! She’ll understand!”

“Don’t make us wait, Butt—Jim. But _you_ get to tell the janitor,” Steve said as the two left, Mary and Darcie following them, the girls still staring at the ruined locker.

“Jim, Jim…” Toby said. “You gotta get it under control, or you’ll go Trollhunter in the middle of the quad!”

“I—I need to help her!” Jim hissed.

“Dr. L is there with her, remember, your mom? She knows what to do! Here, let’s go, you text her to tell you what’s going on.” Toby hoped Jim wouldn’t be leaving—nope, there he went, heading for his bike.

“I am gonna get so many absences,” Toby muttered. But it didn’t matter. Jim wasn’t… _back._ Not all the way. And it was Toby’s job to stick by his friend. No matter what.

 

* * *

 

Claire had been aching _all day_. And then, in the middle of fourth period, she realized just why she was cramping so badly when she’d gone to the bathroom. She _barely_ made it to the nurse’s office and then the nurse, frowning at the way she was curled into a fetal position, called for an ambulance.

“Feeling better, Kiddo?” Barbara asked. Claire was on her side on the examination bed. “The pain relievers should be kicking in about now. I’ll send a note to the school so you can keep them with the nurse and take them as needed.”

“Still wanna curl up and ignore the world,” Claire moaned. “But it’s better now.”

“Good.”  Barbara sat by her. “Claire, you had bad diet, stress, exhaustion injuries—this is going to have a fairly severe impact on the regularity and intensity of the menstruation cycle, at least in the short term. Your mother told me your periods were regular before now, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I asked, and she and your father agreed that you need to be put on oral contraceptives.”

“What?” Claire raised her head. “We’re not doing _that—”_

“I  know,” Barbara said. _Though as much as Javier would like to believe, you… he certainly sounded relieved when I told him it wasn’t anything serious, just proof positive that he didn’t need to worry about any incoming grandkids._ “But oral contraceptives can help steady out your cycle and I think it should assist in this case. Besides, they have a number of other health benefits, so there’s little reason not to take them at this point.”  She stuck a finger at Claire. “Mind you, and this is from both me and your parents, this isn’t a license to set the town afire in a night of insane debauchery.”

Claire laughed, then moaned. “Don’t make me laugh. Not now, pleas—”

Barbara’s phone beeped. She pulled it out and groaned. “Jim’s on the way. Five messages telling him he doesn’t need to come over, and he’s on the way. Toby with him.”

“He would…” Claire said. “He panicked a couple of times. After the first month, they always came irregularly and they _always_ hurt…” She winced.  “And sometimes I started puking as well, so Jim would panic and try to help me keep clean. Third month… I think… was when I had a really bad one.”

Barbara shook her head. Jim and Claire were always a little vague on time, especially when they were alone, without even the rebels to help them keep time. Sometimes she wondered if time had actually passed differently there, like some hellish fairyland.

“Yeah,” Claire continued. “Third month, after we tried to eat that mossy stuff. I was just puking up this yellow bile stuff and could barely move, so we found a little stream and Jim helped me bathe there. He was babbling the whole time about how it was his fault and how I was gonna die.”

“What happened?”

“I lived and punched him in the shoulder. _He_ didn’t make me go into the Darklands, so he doesn’t get to take all the blame.”

Barbara smiled. “That’s the spirit Kiddo. Why don’t you stay here and I’ll go see if I can find Jim before he assaults some poor security guard for not letting him in the ER. Maybe he can visit before your mom takes you home.”

_And I wish I could say I was joking._ It was plain that her son was protective of Claire.

_Very_ protective.


	18. Sinking on an Even Keel.

When Jim finally saw Claire, he couldn’t do much, not in the crowded hospital. “You shouldn’t have come to school,” Jim said, his eyes going everywhere, looking for threats to his girlfriend in every corner. “You could have been hurt!”

“Jim,” Claire snapped. “I had a bad period. That’s it. Nothing up here can—”

“What about the pix—”

“Ixnay,” Toby said, looking over to where a nurse had raised her head and was staring at the angry teen disapprovingly.

“I shouldn’t—you should have stayed here and not gone into the Darklands. That’s why—”

“And you would have never survived. Remember, we both had to work together!” Claire said, her eyes narrowed.

“I—” Jim closed his eyes. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Claire, are you feeling better?”  Ophelia asked as she came in.

Claire’s eyes flicked away from Jim, to her mother. “You didn’t have to come,” she said. “I could probably go b…”

“No!” Ophelia said. “Barbara told me how much pain you were in. You can rest at home. You don’t have to get better all at once.” Ophelia smiled. “Let the adults baby you for a little bit.”

“I mo— _ow_.” Claire winced and Jim moved towards her.

“Claire—”

“I said, _I’m all right!”_ Claire’s raised voice cut through the bustle of the hospital. She bit her lip, closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “I just need to rest for a little bit. It’s okay, Jim.”  She rolled to her feet, one hand on her belly, and winced again. “I’ll just rest at home until tonight.”

“I—”

“C’mon, Jimbo,” Toby said. “We have to tell Uhl why we sort of, um, ditched school?”

“I—” There was a flicker of blue around Jim, and Jim closed his eyes, body quivering. Barbara stared until the glowing halo vanished, fortunately not noticed by anyone else.

“Toby, I’ll write you a note for tomorrow,” Barbara said. “But I think Jim and I will be heading home. Do you want a ride?”

“Nah, I’ll bike on home,” Toby said. “I’ll talk to you later, Jimbo.”

“S-sure,” Jim said, eyes fixed on Claire.  Then, the four walked out, a little pool around Jim and Claire where busy interns and nurses alike seemed to skitter away from the teenage boy before they got too close to Claire.

 

* * *

 

Jim didn’t relax, at all, for the rest of the day. Claire had gone to her home and Mom had suggested that maybe Claire’s parents would want to help her out.

“It’s part of getting back to normal,” she said.

_Because I’m not. Because I **failed**. _ She didn’t need to say it. Jim knew that was what his mother meant. He’d failed to keep Claire safe.

Again.

Jim couldn’t focus on anything. He’d texted Claire, and she’d told him she would be back soon, but she had to prepare, and was talking to her parents.

Jim started pacing, the meal he’d cooked for him and his mother remaining uneaten in his room where he’d taken it. The armor flickered on, then off, and finally stayed on, no matter what Jim tried to do.

_Finally_ , a portal opened before him and Claire stepped out, looking pale and exhausted, shadows under her eyes.

“Claire,” Jim breathed in horror.

“It’s normal,” Claire said softly.  “I’m just…” She smiled, the expression not reaching her eyes. “A little more vulnerable now that I’m not distracted by being starved and beaten up every day.”

“No, you never _will_ be,” Jim said.

“Nope.” Claire took Jim’s hands in hers, her skin warm against his. “It’s okay, Jim, really.” She smiled. “And now,” Claire gestured at a bag swaying from her shoulder. “I have to put some emergency supplies in the bathroom in case I have to make an unexpected run.”

“Yeah—” Jim shook his head. “Are you hungry? I fixed dinner, but I can—”

Claire shook her head, paling slightly. “No, I had all I want at home. I’m still a little nauseous.  Maybe we could just go to bed a little early?”

“Yeah, yeah, let me tell Mom.”

“In your armor?”

“I’m… It’s not wanting to come off right now. I’ll fix it later.” 

But later that night, Jim was still in his armor. Claire had lightly touched him on the cheek but he couldn’t feel her hands around him as he tried to sleep. Then, she got up and hurried to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, the sound of vomiting drifted back to Jim. Claire was hurting.

And here Jim was.

Useless.

 

_“Look at your consort.”  Gunmar gripped Claire by her hair. This time, he hadn’t even bothered to fight Jim, just forced him to watch as he beat Claire. “Look at her. How weak she is. How_ broken _.”_ _Claire was dangling limply from Gunmar’s hand, blood running down her split lip, her face a swollen mass of bruises. “How useless she was to you, to the whelp she came to save. She was brave, but bravery without strength is_ nothing _.” He dropped her. “But perhaps she hoped that you could save her, that you could protect her._

_“How misplaced her faith was, Trollhunter. You cannot protect others. Not even your consort. You are a child, playing at being a warrior.”  Gunmar walked forward until his face was just beyond Jim’s reach. “When the time comes, I will kill and eat the whelp in front of your consort, so she can know how utterly you failed her, and then I shall devour her in front of_ you _so you may know how totally_ you _have failed.”_

Listening to the sounds coming from the bathroom, Jim bit down on one armored hand and closed his eyes, tears slowly leaking down his face.

The next morning, he couldn’t get the armor off.

 


	19. Interlude: Walter

Blinky was waiting for Walter as he came out of the growing darkness, folding his wings around his body as he looked to the dark bulk of the forests that surrounded Arcadia.  Behind him, the lights of the city blazed, banishing the night.

_And if, no, when Gunmar rises, the power  lines that fuel those lights will be the first thing he targets._   Gunmar was not a fool. Born and rage and power, he was also a great general and worst of all—no coward. Let human TV shows claim that evil always came with weakness—Gunmar would merely see challenging mankind’s endless legions as… Well, a _challenge._

_Which raises an issue. Gunmar is not an idiot. Trolls will be bringing spears and swords vs. Atomic weapons, tanks and supersonic jets. And yet, Gunmar is_ not _an idiot. So he feels he can somehow counterbalance those tools._

Strickler wished he knew how.

“On time, I see,” Blinky muttered. “You must be eager to ensure we continue to protect you.”

“I wasn’t aware you were protecting me now,” Strickler said. “Or are we here, instead of in Trollmarket, for your health?”

“Usurna is not a fan of changelings at the best of times. And it was your dalliance with Angor Rot and the Trollhunters mother that have put us in this position, to say nothing of the kidnapping of the fair Claire’s brother!”

“How are they?” Strickler asked.

“Not good.”  Blinky closed his six eyes before opening them again. “They still must sleep together, lest nightmares come upon both of them, and even with all of our magic, they still suffer the consequences of their time in the Darklands. Claire was ill today, and Master Tobias has told me that both of them are easily startled, and…”  he sighed. “He believes that they have not told all about their imprisonment.”

“He’s not trying to question them, is he?”  Strickler leaned forward. Toby was not a bad kid,  but his grasp of social niceties had well, never been his strong suit.

“Far from it. He understands that they will heal at their own time and own pace. He has grown, Strickler, from organizing the other humans to protect Arcadia to working with us to free Jim and Claire he has grown.” Blinky put one hand to his forehead and rubbed it. “He has grown as he should not have had to. None of them should have to endure this. What was Merlin thinking? What was _I_ thinking.”

“You have done your best to prepare them—” Strickler said. “As someone who was on the other side, I doubt they would have done nearly as well without your aid.”

“Which is poor consolation for everything they have _lost!_ _”_ Blinky snapped.

Strickler sighed. “Shall I fetch a whip? Granted, self-flagellation may not be as effective on a troll as a human, but I’m told it was once all the rage for senseless and counter productive displays of regret.”  He didn’t wilt under Blinky’s glare. “I have been a teacher for decades—centuries. The Trollhunter part was new, but do you think Jim and Claire are the first children I’ve seen march off to a war not of their making? The first ones to come back with too many ghosts behind their eyes, from the Somme or Tarawa? At least they are fighting in a war that is clearly moral, instead of risking their life to ensure that the United Fruit Company keeps its tax free status!”  He shook his head. “The best we can do is ensure that they live and this war ends quickly and In victory, because until it is over, Jim, Toby and Claire will never be able to put it behind them.”

_If they ever can._

“We do not know where Gunmar is, if he even made it out of the Darklands.”  Blinky sighed. “Queen Usurna is convinced, however, and she is not happy at our decisions.”

“Yes. My connections—what few I have left—in the Janus order are equally unaware of Gunmar’s actions, but none of them are located in Arcadia.” Strickler frowned. “I considered attempting to probe the order’s headquarters, but that might provoke a reaction that we are not ready for.”

“Attempts to build a larger fighting force to take over for the Trollhunter have been…” Blinky shook his head. “Less than successful. Few trolls are warriors, and the fact that the Trollhunter has not been able to rally them has led to…”

“They fear their lucky charm has been beaten,” Strickler said. “And the one who would normally step up, Draal has been tainted by his defeat—at the hands of the Trollhunter.”

“Yes.”  Blinky paused. “Gunmar… he will outlive the Trollhunter. He will outlive _all_ of them. Maybe he simply intends…”

“No.” Strickler shook his head. “Jim killed Bular. If there was anyone Gunmar loved, it was his son. He will not let time do what he feels _he_ must do, even ignoring the damage to his reputation.”

“Then why isn’t he? Why didn’t he?”

“He wanted to use Jim in the Darklands, and here…”  Strickler frowned. “If Gunmar intends to gain vengeance upon Jim, it cannot be a broken Jim. Oh, he could, but it wouldn’t be _vengeance_.  He will not wish to forever be known as the king who was too frightened to cast down his enemy when his enemy was strong. To say nothing of the public impact—how many trolls would fight the warlord who killed the trollhunter in single combat.”

“So he will not…”

“I do not think so. Besides, I expect Gunmar is taking this time to finalize other plans, to build a power base. Attacking openly, with just a few followers would be stupid, and Gunmar isn’t stupid.”

“Ah.” Blinky was silent for a moment. Then. “All those students. You have been teaching for decades—”

“Over a century.”

“Very well, the ones who went to war, who came back… They recovered?”

“Some of them. But never unchanged.”  Walter had lied too much over his long life. He would not betray Jim and Claire with a comforting lie now.

“Fair Claire was so entranced by Trollmarket when she first entered it…” Blinky’s four hands were intertwined.  “She actually read one of the books I gave her—impressed Vendel and _that_ is difficult. Jim…”

“Was less into reading.”

“Oh, Merlin yes, he tried, even when he was out of his depth.” Blinky paused. “Did I tell you about the time that Jim ended up shrunken on the day he had to give a report?  It was not long after he found the amulet.”

“No, but I would like to hear it…” Strickler smiled.

“Yes.” Blinky cleared his throat, eyes seeing something else. “Well, it was due to a rampaging gnome epidemic…”

Walter stared down at the cityscape, letting Blinky’s words fill the air.  _How did I get here?_ It didn’t matter. He was here, and had, for the first time in his life chosen a side that could be defined as other than “My side.”  What would happen…

Would happen.


	20. Breakdowns, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all starts coming apart...

“Hey Jimbo—” Toby fell silent, staring at Jim. Jim, in his armor. Jim, obviously _not ready_ for school.  Claire was next to him, patting his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she said softly.  A rumble of thunder echoed through the room, the artifact of a storm that was rolling in from the north. Claire fell silent for a moment, glancing up at the ceiling, before biting her lip. “I can go to school myself…”

“No!” Jim snapped. “I can handle it.”  He growled, the armor flickering… Then coming back, untouched. “Dammit!” Jim punched his chest, once, twice, three times.

“Jim!” Claire said. “I’m okay. You need to rest for a little while. Maybe you can come later, once you get a chance to rest.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to go, Jim.” Barbara shook her head. “You can just wait for a little while. Besides, it doesn’t look like you got too much sleep. Maybe a rest will do you good.”  Barbara tapped a finger against her chin. “I have some medication that can help you sleep…”

“I’ll be with her, Jimbo,” Toby said.

Jim closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “You’ll stay close?”

“Jim—It’s school,” Claire said.

_Then why do you look a little nervous?_ Toby thought, but did not say.

“I have my phone,” Claire continued, “and Toby will be near, so there isn’t any problem, right?”

“I—” Jim closed his eyes. “I’m sorry I screwed up.”

“You didn’t,” Claire said.

“You two had better head off.” Barbara said. “If the rain doesn’t stop by the end of school, give us a call and your parents or I will pick you up.”

“Got it!” Toby said, as he and Claire walked for the door, Jim holding Claire’s hand for a few seconds before she left, blowing him a kiss.   Another soft rumble of thunder punctuated the closing of the door.

“C’mon Jim,” Barbara said. “Let’s get you settled down.”  Jim, still tense, finally nodded and went back to the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Barbara was concerned. Jim normally calmed down when he cooked, but he’d made enough to feed a small army and yet there was no sign of the armor going away. Every other second, he was checking the phone again.

The only message from Claire had been that she had made to school, with a smiley face by it.

Small mercies.

Worse, it was clear that Jim _hadn’t_ slept that much last night, and before lunch, he was actually stumbling.

“Jim. I’m going to give you some medication and I want you to _lay down_ ,” Barbara finally said.

“I’m okay—”

“You’re dead on your feet,” Barbara cut Jim off. “How much is that going to help _Claire?_ ” She regretted the words as Jim _flinched_ , almost like he’d been hit. Then he closed his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah.  These won’t make me impossible to wake up?”

“No. And if anything, anything at all, happens, I’ll get you up.” Barbara promised. A flash and roar of thunder caused her to start, as the rain started falling outside.

“I guess we will be picking Claire and Toby up,” she murmured.

“Rain’s good. It never rained in the Darklands. The thunder… not so much.”  Jim said, then swayed. “I guess I’ll try and lay down.”  Barbara nodded and got him the medicine.

Jim lay down, the armor gleaming against the bed, closed his eyes. Barbara walked out, but stayed by until it looked like he was asleep.

But it wasn’t a restful sleep. Jim’s face was twitching, muscles still tight. She sighed and went back down to the living room. She busied herself with her journal. Draal might be downstairs, but she wanted to give the big warrior some time to relax. He’d been patrolling every night, fearful that the Order or Gunmar would strike at Jim. Daytime was when he could relax.

Even rainy daytime.

But even so… Barbara sighed. She kept talking, telling the others to wait, but…  _When is Jim going to be back? Jim from before this all happened?_

The thunder was now rolling nearly continuously, the flashes illuminating the street even as the rain turned the cars and houses to indistinct shapes. Once it would have been relaxing.

Now, Barbara kept an eye out for any big, indistinct shapes that moved when they shouldn’t.

Several hours passed, letting her get some cleaning done, store the food Jim had made (enough for lunches for the rest of the week) and sit down with some tea to try and re—

Her phone jangled. The tone the hospital used.

“Dr. Lake,” she said, annoyed. “I’m not on the roster for this—what do you _mean_ Jenkins and Mariah are sick?”  She pinched her nose. “Can’t you get anyone else? I know things are difficult but—”

Barbara held the phone away for a moment and sighed. “I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. _Try_ and get someone for tomorrow.”

Barbara quickly changed, heading up to the room to let Jim know.  She looked down to the phone and nodded. She’d better let Strickler and Toby know—Strickler in case someone needed an adult face, Toby to stick around and keep Jim company.  After that, she’d let Draal know and head to the hospital.

Barbara’s mind was full of a dozen different competing thoughts as she walked in. Jim was tossing and turning, and without thinking, Barbara reached down to lightly wake her son.

 

* * *

 

_“Help me! You promised you would help me!”  Claire’s hands slipped from Jim as the warriors pulled her from the cage. “Jim, please! You said you would keep me safe!”_

_A low, rumbling laugh filled the air as Gunmar walked forward. “He promised you. He promised his mother he would tell her, and the fled to the Darklands like a coward, rather than face her. He has made many promises in his life.” A great hand gripped Claire around her torso, slowly clenching, the sound of snapping ribs sounding like gunshots._

_“And you should know, as the last thing you learn in your life.”_

_“Jim… Please…” Blood poured  from Claire’s mouth._

_“The Trollhunter **lies.”**_

_And then Jim felt something grip his shoulder._

* * *

 

Barbara barely had a chance to realize what she’d done. How she’d done what she’d warned Toby, Ophelia, and Javier to never do. Then she had a chance for one last thought— _Barbara, you idi—_ and then the clenched metal fist slammed into her face.

 

 

 

 

 


	21. Breakdowns, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep, here comes the crash.

Walter knew he wasn’t liked by the trolls. Which was to say, if Draal had the slightest excuse, he’d reduce Walter to a pulp. Which is why _Draal_ sending him a text, using the precoded message (Troll fingers weren’t good at typing on a touch screen) that they had established was unusual. More worryingly Draal’s message was of the “Gunmar is pounding on the door” variety.

Walter didn’t drive, he flew, risking a break in the clouds or a passerby seeing him, turning back to his human form as he descended out of the rainy sky. He didn’t wait, he slammed the door open, every sense alert for danger.

“Up here, Strickler!” Draals voice boomed.

Walter took the steps two at a time, to where Jim’s room was. Draal was in there, crouched over Barbara, who was laying against the wall. One window had been shattered, the wind blowing through the curtains.

“What happened?”

“I heard the Trollhunter scream and then…”

“St-stupd…” Barbara’s voice was slurred. Walter saw her glasses, broken, lying down by her side. “Woke’m up from a nightmore. Shook him. Not his—”

“Dr. Lake, look at me,” Walter said, kneeling down, pulling a flash out of his pocket. He wasn’t a doctor, but he’d learned a fair amount of medicine over the decades. Her eyes were tracking him, but well—the entire side of her face was purpling and swelling. “You know where you are—”

“I didn’t get a concussion—” she hissed with pain. “Jim pulled his punch at the last moment.”

“Good thing he did.” Draal growled. “He could have killed you.”

“Where _is_ Jim?”

“He…” Barbara winced as she touched the side of her face. “He ran, broke the-the window and just ran. He said he was dangerous, he’d hurt me—Walter, he was _hysterical_.”

“We’ll handle that momentarily, Dr. Lake. Draal, carry her down to the living room where it’s a little warmer.”

“No, _Walter_ , I’m—”

“I want to look at you in the light, and then call the others, Barbara, or do you think I should go charging out and run all over Arcadia screaming his name?”

”I— _ow!”_ Barbara hissed as Draal picked her up and her purpling cheek pressed against his arm.

As they came into the light, Walter winced.  The bruise looked worse and there could be—”Barbara I think we should call the hospital. You don’t sound like you have a concussion but—”

“No!” Barbara burst out. “Walter, if I go in there, the police will take a report—nobody who looks at this will think it’s anything but someone slugging me. If I admit it was Jim, _they will arrest him for domestic abuse_.”

“He wasn’t in his right mind,” Draal muttered.

“Then they’ll want to have him detained for a psychological evaluation.” Barbara said. “And what do you think will happen when he can’t take his armor off!”

Walter pinched his nose. _Damned secrets._ “Fine,” he said. “But for now, Draal, there should be icepacks in the refrigerator. Fetch them, if you please.”

“Very well,” Draal said, giving Walter a warning gaze.

“Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ bitch—”

“Dr.— Barbara, enough.”  Walter frowned. “Young Atlas is already putting too much upon his shoulders, and you should not emulate him.”

“I shouldn’t ha—”

“But you did, and we are here, and all the self-loathing in the world will not change that. As a changeling, I can assure I am _well_ acquainted with that particular waste of time.” Strickler paused. “Now, where do you think Jim will go?”

“I don’t _know!_ ” Barbara’s voice was desperate. “He was babbling, Walter, about how he hurt me, how he hurt everyone around him, how he needed to get away so we would be safe, and then he just turned and _ran_ though the window. I don’t think _he_ knows where he’s going!”

“Here,” Draal said.

Walter took the ice pack and put it to the side of her face. It was a medical reusable cold pack. Dr. Lake wouldn’t have anything less in her house.  Barbara hissed and closed her eyes, tears dripping from them.

“He’s my child, Walter, I’m supposed to make him better, not do _this_ to him!”

“Don’t worry Barbara. We may not know where he’ll go, but I think we know _who_ he’ll run to.”

“Claire.”

“And if not, Claire can use the connection of the staff to contact Jim.  We can talk him down. In fact—” the front door burst open, revealing a soaking wet Toby.

“Mr.  Domzalski, aren’t you supposed to be in school?” Walter asked.

“Can’t! Bad things happened! We need Jim—” Toby ran to the stair well. “Jim!”  Then, blinking, he turned around. “Dr. Lake? Did a troll get in here? Is Jim okay? They didn’t kidnap—”

“I woke Jim up and he…”

“Punched the doctor in the face,” Draal supplied with typical trollish tact.

“Jim… _hit_ you?”  From Toby’s tone, it was plain he had a hard time comprehending the words.

“It was an accident, Toby.”  Barbara said, hissing in pain once again. “But I think a tooth or two are loose.”

“I have a great dentis—no, wait, we need Jim. Claire got in trouble at school!”

“What?” Barbara shot upright, wincing as she did. “What happened?”

“We were doing the ropes, and Eli lost his grip and fell on her and she kicked him across the room and then St—”

“Wait, Toby,” Walter said. “We need to talk about this after we’ve found Jim and for that, we need Claire.” Everyone waited while Walter called Claire’s house. “Hello, Ophelia—why are you crying? No, _calm down_ , I can’t understand you. Claire did what? What happened? I—no, I didn’t know she was armed. We can talk to—WHAT?  What do you _mean_ she’s vanished?  No. We’re on our way.” Walter closed the phone and stared at the others. “Ophelia wasn’t overly coherent, but they had some form of argument, Claire became hysterical… and used the shadow staff to leave.”

The room was silent for a moment, then Toby said what everyone was thinking.

“Well, shit.”


	22. Breakdowns III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse.

It was the thunder. The rain didn’t bother Claire, but every rumbling bolt reminded her of the sound of Gunmar’s soldiers, slamming their spears down onto the dark stone as they surrounded her, the echoes filling the Darklands, reminding everyone who its master was. The sound of thundering feet as they were pursued. _Her sword, smashing into the unforgiving wall, shattering into shards…_  

Claire took a deep breath and entered the warm and lit halls of Arcadia High.

“Hey C-Bomb, you look pretty worried,” Darcie said. “Something wron—where’s Jim?”

“He’s got a _horrible_ cold,” Claire said. She wanted, for a moment, to just break down and _tell_ Darcie and Mary everything. Tell someone who wasn’t always looking at her like she might break, or who would judge her…

But then, if she told them, maybe they would do the same. Just stare at her like there was something _wrong_ with her, or try to wrap her up in blankets like she would break.

“Just a cold,” Claire said. “Just a cold. Let’s get to class.”

But the day just seemed to _wear_ on.  Sometimes Jim’s over-protectiveness could get to Claire, but she hadn’t been this far away from him, for this long for…

A while.

Worse, as the rain fell, it turned the world outside the classrooms dark and indistinct, the lightning flashing, catching the moving cars in strobe-lit movement, their shapes fading into the rain, dark, menacing.

_They’re just cars_ , Claire thought, clenching one fist out of the view of the teacher. Just cars. Not trolls carrying torches, advancing through the gloom. She took a deep breath, held it. Exhaled.

“So, Ms. Nunez?”

“Ah!” Claire started. “Sorry, what was the question?”

“Could you explain the purpose of the introduction in an essay?”

“I-sure,” Claire started.  _They’re just giving me easy questions_ , she thought grumpily. Worse, she _needed_ the easy questions. She’d never dreamed just how much you could _lose_ over six months, where your worries were living another hour in that endless abyss, and math and English and what you did on the weekend were far from your mind. Claire had assumed that tutoring would just be a formality for her.

It wasn’t.

Another sign of how badly she was doing. At least next period she’d have have gym.

 

 

Once in the locker room, Claire waited for all the other chattering girls to leave. That was another odd thing—too much _talking_. She remembered communicating with touches, whispers, always aware that something could be listening, and here people were shouting and screaming like they didn’t have a care in the world.  She took a deep breath, looking around at the shadowy lockers, before she finished putting her gym clothes on, and carefully secured one throwing spike around her ankle, concealed by her sock. Finally, she got up and went into the light.

 

* * *

 

 

Toby was worried. Claire and Jim always got… wiggy when they weren’t together. Jim was worse than Claire, but he could see her looking from side to side as she walked in.  They were practicing climbing the ropes, something that had been Toby’s great nemesis—well at least before he’d ended up being the _only_ active human Trollhunter in Arcadia, and even after Steve and Eli were brought on board, Toby had gotten more exercise than he’d ever dreamed of having.

Speaking of Eli and Steve, they were screwing around on the ropes again.

_Will those two just…_ Okay, it was great that Steve wasn’t _bullying_ Eli anymore, but still all the horseplay sometimes got on Toby’s nerves, especially when they were on a mission. Blinky had just suggested patieror and then…

_Oh, no!_ Eli did lose his grip, and flew straight for Claire, whose back was turned, talking to Mary.

 

* * *

 

“So, maybe we can go out, if Jim’s feeling better,” Claire was answering Mary’s request that they show up at one of her parties.  _Maybe it’ll make Jim feel better to know that—_ Suddenly a weight slammed into Claire shoving her to the ground. Mary’s “Hey!” vanished, as did everything else.

_“So broken, so useless,” she could barely hear Gunmar as his foot pressed her down, pressed her down into the water, filling her nostrils, filling her mouth. It always ended up this way, one day he would grow tired and she would die. She had to get away, Get Away, GET AWAY, GETAWAY!_

 

Claire screamed, and with a supreme effort threw off Gunmar’s foot, rising up, hand going to the spike. She wouldn’t surrender, he wouldn’t break her— 

“Claire, Eli just fell, don’t kick—” Something gripped her by the shoulder, and Claire spun around, deadly spike in her hand, pulling her enemy down with the other hand, driving for her enemy’s throat… 

And then there were screams. 

Including hers.

 

* * *

 

Toby stood, stock still as he stared at the tableau. Eli was groaning in the corner, Darcie and Shannon by him, but everyone else was staring at Claire. Claire who had flipped Steve to the ground and, a daemonic expression on her face, had the spike just inches from his throat.

Then the moment passed. “Ohmigod!” Claire said in a choked voice. “Steve I’m sorry!”  The spike fell from her hand as she scrabbled back away from him, her wide eyes taking in how everyone else was staring at her.

“I’m sorry!” She said again. Her eyes reminded Toby of some wild animal, caught in a trap, terrified. Her breath started coming faster and faster. “I’m sorry!”

“Claire,” Mary said, walking towards her.  The Asian was actually starting to cry. “It’s okay—”

“No!” Claire said. “I’m sorry!”

“Mary, stop!” Coach said. Mary froze and put her hands to her mouth as she stared at Claire. Coach got down on one knee, facing Claire, not getting close to her. “Claire?”

“I’m sorry!” Claire repeated, looking at her hands like they were alien things.

“I know,” Coach said.

_How does he have that voice? Coach only has loud and louder. How did he get soft?_

_“_ I know,” Coach repeated. “Everybody is fine. Nobody got hurt.”

“I could have—I could have—” Claire’s voice broke off into a sob.

“But you didn’t, Claire.” Coach still was talking in that weird, soft voice, like he was trying to coax a scared cat to come in. “Everything is okay, but I think we need to take you to the nurse’s office. Just in case.”

“I…I didn’t—Steve… Eli, Ohmigod, I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” Eli said nervously.

The doors opened up and Principal Uhl and Ms. Janeth came in, both looking like they’d run up until they got to the doors. Toby wondered who had called them.

“Claire?” Toby finally said. “Maybe you should go with Coach to the nurse’s office. I can take you.”

Coach shot him a warning glance, but Coach didn’t know everything. Toby walked up to Claire before anyone could intervene and held out his hands. Claire grabbed them like she was a drowning woman, still looking around, flinching at the way people were looking at her.

“You ready?” Toby asked.

“Yes,” Claire’s voice sounded like a little kid's. Coach nodded at Toby in… _approval?_ Then Senor Uhl, Ms. Janeth, Toby and Claire left the room.

Staring at Claire’s slack expression, had no idea what to do.

Then he looked at the teachers and realized that _they_ had no idea what to do.

They continued down the corridor, the rumbling thunder a mocking refrain to the sound of their footsteps.


	23. Ultimatums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, you can't keep this sort of trauma secret forever.

Claire didn’t know how much time had passed. They’d brought her to the principal’s office, but instead of the uncomfortable chair Uhl used for people who had caused trouble, she was put down on the big, comfy couch, the nurse giving her a blanket.

The heater was still working so why was she so cold?

Toby said a few things to her, but she didn’t really understand them. She had almost killed Steve. Steve had almost died. She had almost _killed_ Steve.

What was _wrong_ with her? Why couldn’t she make it right? She hadn’t been able to help— _Enrique looking up at the razor-sharp blade that was trembling in **her** hand—_Claire clenched her eyes shut, sitting silently as tears trickled down her cheeks. She heard the door open and opened her eyes, just in time to see Darcie’s dad walking in.

No. Not her dad. Detective Scott. He and Principal Uhl stood at the far end of the room, speaking in low tones.

_Oh God. They’re going to send me to jail. I’m going to go to jail._ But didn’t she deserve it? But they’d lock her away. Put her in a locked little room where she couldn’t—

Suddenly, Toby patted her hand with is free hand, and Claire looked down at how she was clenching Toby’s forearm so hard it was going white. Uhl was making ‘no’ motions with his head, while Detective Scott looked dubious, hands on his hips.

Then the door opened again and her _mom_ came running in.

God, the way her face was, how white it was, she must be _furious_ at Claire. Claire couldn’t even meet her gaze.

“What _happened?_ ” Ophelia said, her voice terrified.

“An accident,” Uhl replied, looking at Detective Scott, almost like he was _daring_ him to say something. “As you know, Ms. Nunez has had a number of extra credit projects to bring her current. One possible project was a crafts project and she”—he placed the throwing spike on the desk—”brought a tool to gym class by mistake. There was some horseplay and a student fell into her, and well, students will always exaggerate.”

Claire heard Toby gasp by her side, while Detective Scott stared down at the throwing spike and actually _rolled his eyes_. Then he cleared his throat.

Uhl nodded. “But, I feel that you should remain home for the rest of the week. Two days will let the rumors die down and when you return on Monday…” he sighed and looked at Detective Scott.

“I or another officer will be here to assist your teachers in ensuring that you didn’t ‘accidentally’ bring any other tools to school.”

Claire sank into the couch, her face burning with shame. They were going to search her. Oh God, would they make her take her clothes off, just stand there in her underwear? Would they make her strip _naked?_

“That’s no—” Detective Scott cut her mother off.

“No, Councilwoman, it is _very_ necessary. Not unless you wish to drop Principal Uhl’s deal and handle this more… _formally_.”

Mom’s face seemed to get even whiter, and she shook her head.

Uhl stood silently for a moment. “Very well. Ms. Nu—Claire, you have had a very trying day. I think you and your mother should just go home, and you should rest up for the next four days. On Monday, we can talk about everything when we’re all calmer.”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t recognize her voice.

“I know,” Uhl said, his voice oddly gentle. “I think we made a mistake by just tossing you back into school without further adjustments. But don’t worry about that. Go home, rest…” He paused and smiled. It looked… _strange_ on his face. “And don’t worry about any homework that might be due on Monday. Just take it easy.”  He paused. “Thank you, Toby, you can go back to class now.”

“Okay,” Toby said, patting Claire again before he left. Claire bit her lip as she was alone with the adults. Then Mom was signing something, and she was taking her by the arm. Claire almost tripped over the blanket. God, couldn’t she do _anything?_

“Come with me, Claire,” Mom said. Behind her, Uhl and Scott were having a short, intense conversation, before Scott nodded and turned to follow them.

The air was still dark and heavy, the clouds reminding Claire of the dim reaches of the Darklands, before Ophelia helped her into the car. Once inside, Claire curled up in the seat.  She’d never been thrown out of school like this— _never_.  She hardly even ever came home sick… And now here she was, in the car, while Detective Scott was talking to her mom.

At least he was smiling. 

 

 

* * *

 

Detective Scott waved at Claire as she sat in the car.

“I’m smiling, but I’m very fucking furious,” he said to Ophelia. “You know, I checked after Darcie came to me with some concerns about Jim and Claire. They’re not supposed to tell me without a warrant, but I checked around the local practitioners, and imagine my surprise when nobody has even _heard_ about Claire getting psychological help. Are you _that_ concerned with your image, Councilwoman?”

“Barbar—”

“Dr. Lake is a _general practitioner_. She’s not a shrink, and she _sure as hell_ does not know how to treat the kind of deep seated trauma the children are suffering from—and I’ll be blunt, that comment makes me wonder if my next stop should be the Medical Board of California to see what they think about an unqualified individual playing psychologist. The only reason your daughter is going home, instead of to the station is Principal Uhl _lied through his fucking teeth_. The teachers here have put their _careers_ on the line for you, because you are _not doing your job._ ”

_I am doing my job! But I can’t tell you about trolls and magical prisons!_ Ophelia didn’t know what would be worse—him taking her to the asylum, or him _believing_ her.

_“I’m_ trying to avoid hurting my daughter further.”

“Well congratulations on that—or did you hear about her meltdown after she almost put a _razor-sharp_ throwing spike through Steve’s throat? That looks _wonderfully_ like she’s not hurting any more.”

“I—”

“No. No excuses.” Now Detective Scott pointed at her. “She’s out for the next two days. Then you have two days over the weekend. On _Monday_ , I’ll be here to observe the teachers… how did I put it? Checking to make certain no other “tools” have fallen into her clothes. I’ll also be happy to have you tell me _what_ _qualified_ medical professional you now have talking to your daughter, and Jim Lake Junior, if you don’t, _I’ll_ find one, and if I think you’re trying to roadblock me, I’ll show up to both of your homes with every Children’s Protective Services investigator in the _county._ ” He stared at the speechless woman, then turned and walked back to his car, his last words floating on the air.

“ _Count_ on it.”

 


	24. At the Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire reaches her limit.

Ophelia didn’t say anything until they got home, Claire huddled in the seat next to her. Finally, when they got inside, her mother just seemed to boil over. “I cannot believe you _brought weapons_ to school!” Ophelia sounded furious. Furious and terrified. “Do you know what would have happened if Senor Uhl had not lied, if he hadn’t gone to the mat for us, if Detective Scott hadn’t pretended to believe a lie a _five-year-old_ would see through? You would be in jail! I know the DA and he would have charged you, no matter what excuse! Charged you as an adult!”

“I need to be able to defend myself!” Claire shouted back. Not screamed. Shouted. She wasn’t crying. She _wasn_ _’t_. That was just sweat trickling down her cheeks.

“Like you defended yourself against Eli? Against Steve? You almost _killed_ him!”

“I wouldn’t—I didn’t”— _coming back to herself just in time to divert the deadly spike from embedding itself into Steve_ _’s throat—”_ I stopped!”— _Mary_ _’s look of horror, the way she cried. Mary never cried, but you made her cry—_ ”I was, they startled me!”

“They won’t startle you again, because you’re not allowed _back_ to school for the rest of the week!” Ophelia said. “And what happens if someone startles you on the sidewalk?”

“I—”

“Give me those knives and spikes. All of them. We’re going to store them where they’re safe. Where you can’t get them.” Ophelia’s voice was tense.

“No!” Claire shouted back.

“No?” Ophelia’s voice was quiet. “Claire Maria Nunez, you will—”

“I _won_ _’t!_ I _won_ _’t_ let you make me helpless! They stole Enrique out of our house! They sent goblins against Jim and I only had _stones!_ I don’t _have_ Magic armor, I don’t have a magic sword, and it _won_ _’t matter_ , because they _still come after me!_ ” Claire’s voice was going faster and faster because Mama didn’t understand, she never understood no matter what Claire had said to her. “They took everyone’s _mind_ at school. Angor could have sliced my head off while I was looking for an imaginary baby! He did it in the _daylight when we should have been safe!!_ _”_

_“And now you’re a bigger threat to yourself!”_ Ophelia’s shout matched Claire’s. “Young lady, you will _give me those weapons and give them to me right now_ _…_ ” Then she looked at Claire’s backpack. “And the staff! You need to be watched to make certain you’re safe, and not by Jim or the trolls. You will stay here where I, Javier or Barbara can watch you and you will not go shadowing off!”

_My shadow staff? No. I won it, I took it. It_ _’s saved my life…_ Suddenly it was in her hands, and she was retreating from her mother. Claire had fought trolls too big to get into the house, but now she was backing away as her mother advanced on her, somehow _looming_ over her. She frantically looked from side to side. There was no place to _go!_ “No… You can’t have it! I need it. I won’t be trapped—”

“Claire, give me the staff!”

“Woah, everyone!” NotEnrique had appeared from upstairs. “The runt is crying and you all screaming your heads off ain’t helping. Sis, put the staff down. Let’s sit down and talk about this like reasonable fleshbags!”

“Stay out of this!” Ophelia snapped. “This is between me and my daughter!”

“Don’t shout at him! He helped us!”

“He’s part of the reason this _happened_ to you!” Now her mother’s hand was outstretched. “Give me that staff. Now, Claire.”

“No.” Claire was starting to hyperventilate. _I won_ _’t let her. I won’t be trapped again.Never again. Not ever…_ Her ribs ached, remembering the feel of Gunmar’s great foot, pressing down on her, his rumbling, mocking voice filling the air. _How your consort must be ashamed of how easily I broke you_ _…_ “No! I’m not giving it to you. Not ever!”

“ _Clai—_ _”_

_“Stop talking to me like I’m some little girl! I’m not broken! I’m not!”_ Claire didn’t care that she was screaming, that everything was wavering through her tears, that snot was coming out of her nose. “ _Where were you when Enrique was gone!?_ _”_

“I was _trusting my daughter not to lie to my face!_ _”_

_“_ Than why don’t you trust me now!”

_“Because we_ can’t! _Because you_ _’re sick and you need help! I understan—”_

_“Understand?_ ** _Understand?_** _”_ Claire’s voice scaled up, cracking as she screamed back at her mother, spittle flying from her lips. “You don’t understand! You can’t understand! If you did… If you did, you wouldn’t want us _back!_ _”_ Suddenly the staff spun around and a portal opened behind Claire.

“Claire! Don’t you leave. Don’t you _dare_ leave!” Ophelia shouted and made a lunge for her daughter. Claire jumped back, easily avoiding her mother. As the portal closed, NotEnrique and Ophelia heard Claire’s last words.

“It would have been better if I’d never come back…”

  

* * *

 

“No… Claire…” Ophelia stared at the place where her daughter had been. “I never—I didn’t… I just wanted to keep you safe.”

“Good job with that, ‘Mom’,” NotEnrique said sarcastically.  “I’ve never seen a politician be as smooth as you just were.”

“Where is she?”

“Hopefully? With Jim.  You know, they say teens say stupid things, but you managed to out-stupid Jim’s entire life in—” the changeling looked at the clock. “Wow, two minutes. I’ll calm the kid down, you call Dr. Lake and…” Suddenly the changeling hopped up on the couch and was staring at her, making Ophelia very much aware that whatever his size, he was far from an infant. “Hope that we can find Claire before something bad happens. I’d really be angry if my big sis got hurt because of something her _family_ did. Sort of a sore spot with us changelings.”

Then he was gone and Ophelia sat down, missing the couch, hitting the nice, plush rug they’d installed. “I… didn’t mean it… I just wanted to keep you safe,” she said forlornly before she got the phone out.

But it was already ringing.


	25. Bringing the Broken Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here, we officially hit the bottom of the arc.

Walter drove Barbara to the Nunez’ home—It was clear that Ophelia wouldn’t be safe to drive, and Barbara was still punchy. Toby had gotten Arrrggghhh, and Draal would remain at the house in case Jim returned.

By the time they got to their house, Toby and the others were waiting for them, along with Blinky.

“What happened!” Blinky asked. “Master Tobias was uncle— _Barbara?”_

_“_ I surprised Jim,” Barbara said. “Can I sit down?”

“Y—yes,” Javier said. He’d evidently been called by Ophelia, who was sitting in the chair, crying.

“Barbara woke Jim from a nightmare, and he struck her. Now he’s distraught and fled.” Walter frowned. “What happened to Claire.”

Between sobs, Ophelia explained, Toby filling in the gaps.

“You sought to _disarm_ her?” Blinky said. “After the danger she was—”

“She almost _killed_ another student! I didn’t mean forever, but just until…”

“Well, you did a—”

“Enough!” Strickler shouted, cutting Blinky off. “We are all guilty of errors. The children were far more impacted by their experiences than we initially believed, and we’ll have to work on that—but for now, our _only_ goal is finding them and returning them, safe and sound. Recriminations can wait.”

“But we can’t find Jim, not without Claire,” Barbara said. “Oh, God, what if they hurt themselves…”

“They won’t.” Toby’s voice was certain.

“How can you know?”

“Because they _ran_. Jim didn’t want to hurt you, so he ran. Claire was afraid of what you guys were going to do, and what she _had_ done, so _she_ ran. She’ll find Jim. They need each other.  I think…” Toby’s voice grew thick. “That they’re _ashamed_ of what’s happened.”  He sighed. “And I know where they went.”

“Tell us!” Javier burst out.

“So you can scare them even worse?”  Toby asked.  Walter remembered Toby, before all of this started. He would have never dared say that to an entire room of adults, let alone _these_ adults.

But he wasn’t exactly a child anymore, was he? Another crime to lay at Gunmar’s feet.

Another crime to lay at _Walter’s_ feet.

“Jim loves you, Dr. L, just like Claire loves Mr. And Ms. Nunez. But they don’t think they’re good enough. You keep talking about fixing them, helping them get better… What if they don’t think they _can_ get better?”

“No, they will, we just—”

“Wait, Ophelia,” Blinky said. “It doesn’t matter what will happen, but what Jim and Fair Claire think. That is what you’re saying, Master Tobias?”

“Yeah. So if they can’t get better… Then that’s just them being worse. They’re _afraid_ of what you might say, because they can’t fix this. And I think they haven’t said everything that happened.”

_Jim’s willingness to take everything upon his shoulders, Claire’s perfectionism._   Walter could see how those qualities could turn on them, especially when they were confronting enemies that they couldn’t just punch.  And yet…

“Young Atlas…” Walter sighed. “Not a good name, in retrospect. Atlas wished to abandon his burden, after all.”

“I’ll go—”

“I go as well,” Arrrggghhh rumbled.

“Toby yes, but why—”

Arrrggghhh interrupted Barbara. “Understand shame. Name not sound. What people said to Arrrggghhh before. ‘Arrrggghhh, no. Arrrggghhh, please.’”

Barbara blinked, then suddenly went white, the change contrasting with her purpling bruises as she realized what Arrrggghhh was saying. “Your na—I’m sorry.”

Arrrggghhh shook his head. “Hurt. Not Broken.”

“I will go as well, if Tobias will have me,” Walter said quietly.

“You—why?” Barbara asked.

“Because Jim and Claire have no feelings of respect for me. They don’t _care_ about my possible disappointment, and so can talk to me.”  And that hurt more than it should.

“T-then go!” Ophelia said, from where Javier was holding her on the couch. “Just bring our children _back!”_

“Yeah,” Toby said. “Can you keep up?” he asked Walter.

A flash, and Walter stood in his troll form. “I believe so, but let us be off.”

And with that, they left the others, clustered around the living room, and moved off into the growing gloom of an overcast afternoon.

 

* * *

 

Toby knew exactly where they would meet. The cliffside. Where Jim and Claire had danced, where they had their first kiss, where they would be able to look over Arcadia. So, Arrrggghhh carrying him and Strickler flying above, they came to the cliff, to where two figures were sitting on the grass, heedless of the rain, holding each other like they were the last things in the world.

“I-can’t, I can’t protec—”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t, it was my—”

Their sentences were incoherent, almost like they weren’t even aware of each other’s words, just holding each other tight. Toby got off of Arrrggghhh, the troll and changeling remaining behind him, ceding the lead to the kid.

That was fine.

“Hey, Jim, Claire.” Toby smiled. The two started, scrambling away from him.

“Toby—stay away, I don’t, I don’t want to hur—”

“Hurt me? Nah, you can’t do that. I mean, you could _hit_ me, but _hurt me?_ You’re my friend, Jimbo, you can’t _hurt_ me.” Toby sat down, the grass wet under him. A distant rumble sounded, but the storm had passed, gaps in the clouds showing the twilit sky. “So, did you get any of the nougat nummies, I dropped through the fetch?”

A laugh came from Jim, forced. “Yeah. Thanks. We both… shared them.”

“Sometimes they were the only thing we had to know there was an outside worl—” Claire hit herself on the side of her head. “And I never thanked you! I’m stupid! Stupid, stupid!”

“Nah,” Toby said as he pulled out some nougats, tossing one to Jim and one to Claire, before he opened his. “You just had some other things on your mind.”

“I hit Mom, I can’t—I’m dangerous.” Jim’s voice was choked.

“I know, Dr. L is really upset at herself for forgetting. You had a nightmare. Probably about Claire.” Jim’s stare let him know he was right. “But she understands, they all do.”

“Mom doesn’t,” Claire said softly, huddling into Jim. “I—I can’t be trapped. I can’t be helpless.  Not… not after…” She bit her lip, and started violently shivering.

“Claire, I’m here…” Jim said softly, forgetting about his own fears.

“Ophelia’s crying,” Toby said. “She knows she screwed up.”

“Op—Ophelia?” Claire choked out through her tears.

“Hey, you clear up one goblin infestation out of City Hall right before a council meeting and you get some talking rights.”

Jim’s laugh was soft. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

“But yeah, Claire, she’s broken up and doesn’t know—”

“She can’t! She can’t know!” Now Claire was panicked. “She’ll hate me! They’ll— _you’ll_ hate me.”

Toby chewed on the candy, not knowing what to say for a second. Then, it came to him. “No I won’t. I can’t. You’re like Jim. You could kill me, you could hit me, but make me hate you? No.”

“You don’t know…” Claire sounded like a wounded animal.

“So tell me.” For a moment, everything was silent, like the world was watching, holding its breath. Claire’s hand twitched towards the staff, as if to flee, and then she closed her eyes and started talking.

“We never escaped with Enrique. Gunmar _let_ us get him. He ha-hadn’t been having success getting the helmet off of Jim so he could use his blade, so he tried something _else…”_

_The tunnel ended in a dead end. That was why the soldiers had always given way in this direction—they knew that Jim and Claire had nowhere to do. Claire had been using the staff again and again, but now, there was no place to use it to go. The Rebels were dead, so she had no emotional connection and the line of sight back up the tunnel just led to where more and more troops were advancing, Gunmar’s bellows indistinct._

_But of course he would be here. They were dead on their feet. Nomura, Jim, Claire, with Enrique happy, giggling at the new sounds.  Unaware of what was happening._

_Claire handed Enrique off to Jim and tried, one more time to call a portal. Call a portal anywhere, even to the darkness that still terrified her in her dreams. Nothing._

_She dropped the staff, grabbing a sword laying at her feet next to the stone corpse of its former wielder.  Claire screamed in rage and attacked the wall, as if she could somehow hew through it to freedom. The blade struck again and again, sparks flying from it—and then it shattered against the wall, shards of metal flying everywhere._

_“Keep the trollhunter and his consort alive!” Gunmar’s voice rumbled, distant, but growing closer._

_“Nice to know he doesn’t care about me,” Nomura said, swaying._

_And Jim… Jim’s armor was flickering. The armor was fueled by the bearer’s will and…_

We can’t escape. Gunmar will get us, he’ll take us back. He let us go so he could show us… _Claire whimpered. Gunmar had promised he’d kill Enrique in front of her, to show her that Jim couldn’t protect her.  They had—_

_They had lost._

_Somehow, she found herself holding Enrique in one hand, her brother looking up at her from his blankets. “Hermanito. Enrique. I’m so sorry…” Claire couldn’t say anything else. As she drew a knife with her other hand, the metal gleaming in the light of the Darklands. “I—” She couldn’t say anything, couldn’t bring the knife down. Enrique reached up, chubby fingers wiggling as he stared at the new toy. Claire started hyperventilating. She couldn’t. She had to, but she couldn’t. Then she felt Jim’s hand on hers._

_“We’ll…” Jim was sobbing. “We’ll both do it, and then we can make certain Gunmar can’t get me. I can’t—if he gets us, I can’t fight him and he’ll use the blade on us. Both of us.”_

_“I…”  Claire couldn’t say anything else for a moment, just choking out sobs. She gripped the blade as hard as she could. “I’ll follow you, Enrique. Big sis will follow you. I promise I won’t leave you alone ever again…”_

_And it was then, as if summoned, a great tone echoed through the Darklands.  Suddenly, Gunmar’s voice was louder. “The bridge? The bridge is open! Forget them! Find the bridge,_ find it!”

 

“I can’t tell Mama or Papi—I almost _killed_ Enrique.”

“I—I couldn’t save her.” Jim leaned into Claire.

For a second, Toby didn’t know what to say. Claire _loved_ Enrique.

Arrrggghhh rescued him. “Not wrong. Good.”

“But I was about to _kill_ Enrique—”

“Better than Gunmar.” Arrggghhh shook his head and lightly patted Claire and Jim’s heads. “Better than Gunmar,” the troll repeated.

“I should have… He wrecked us, he br—”

“Far from it, Jim,” Walter sighed and shook his head. “If you’d thrown Enrique back to Gunmar, in hopes he’d be merciful? If you had abandoned him so you could run faster? Than you would have been broken in truth. Refusing to submit, no matter the cost?  Tell me, have you ever heard of the slave trade?”

Jim blinked for a moment confused. “Sort of…”

“Ships were filthy in those days, filling the ocean with offal…and because of that, the sharks would come, circling the ships, hoping for a meal, and many women gave them those meals, by casting themselves and their infants over the side, because that was better, at least a fast death, compared to the alternative.”  He shook his head. “Were they broken?”

“No… they—”

“Were defiant, even unto their last breath. As you were.” Walter knelt down. “You have been battered, you have been tortured. You have been pushed to, and beyond the limits of your endurance. But Gunmar could not _break_ you. Something that I daresay is causing him some considerable anger.”

“Come home…” Arrrggghhh rumbled.

“I—I can’t.” Claire closed her eyes. “Even if you’re right, everyone el—”

“Is gonna understand, Claire,” Toby said. “Because they—we—love you and like I said, you can’t do anything to change that. Sure we screw up, I mean, c’mon, look at me, but we love you.”

They didn’t move for a moment, but then they stood up, looking skittish, a pair of colts about to bolt.

Toby sighed. Jim and Claire were still too afraid. Too afraid to take the first step. Toby had thought he’d hated Angor Rot, but Gunmar? Gunmar had done _this_ to his friends. There was only one thing to do. Toby got in between them, and took Jim’s hand in his right hand and Claire’s hand in his left, standing between them and leading them away from the clearing towards home. Timidly, clinging to him like a pair of little kids, they let Toby lead them back home.


	26. Hitting Bottom and Rising up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the only place you can go is up...

Barbara bit her lip as Toby led Jim and Claire into the living room, holding on to their hands, the other two teens seemingly barely aware of what was happening. Even though they were soaked and shivering, they just didn’t seem to notice.  She’d seen that look before, on doctors who had just given everything, until they had nothing more to give.

On _doctors_. Men and women who had prepared for the stress of their job.

Not children.

Sounds of dismay came from the room. In some ways, this was _worse_ than when they’d first arrived. Physical injuries, Barbara knew how to handle. But this?  The closest she could come to it were those terrible days when it came home to her that her husband wasn’t going to come back, that they weren’t going to pull it out, that she was alone, nobody to lean on with a young child asking her when daddy would come home.

And that same child,  who had helped pull her out of her own despair, was sitting on the couch, blankly staring into space. They had turned the heat up, and Strickler and Blinky bundled Claire and Jim up in blankets over their damp clothes. It would be better to change but…

She looked again. No. That would have to wait.

“Jim, Claire,” Barbara said, “We’re not angry. Not at all. It was our fault…”

“No,” Claire whispered. “Not your fault.” She huddled into Jim’s side. “Didn’t tell you. We should, now.”

“You don’t have to—” Javier started, but Claire shook her head.

“Want to.”

Jim and Claire had always been… vague on many things that had happened.  Barbara and the others had let them stay quiet about that. They would tell them, in their own time, and besides, they knew enough.

As the night wore on, Barbara wondered how much of that had been out of a desire to help the kids and how much it had been born from cowardice. She could see that every other adult in the room had the same thoughts.

She’d seen Jim and Claire’s injuries, been told at how they had been beaten, and from that, she had come to imagine Gunmar as a brute. A sadistic brute who hurt others for no other reason than his own enjoyment.

That was probably true, but as the kids told of their imprisonment, after the rebels had been destroyed after they had made their first, failed attempt to free Enrique, another, far more terrible image emerged.  Gunmar now no longer loomed as a brutal thug, but a cold-blooded monster, his keen intellect focused on breaking Jim, either by himself or through Claire. Using everything from simple beatings to staged events to slowly grind them down, Gunmar could have easily stood among any of the great _human_ monsters who had left so much horror in the pages of history.

Claire and Jim named some of the rebels. Gora the Elder, who had found Claire a breastplate that would fit her. Clever Jinas, others. Names now. Before they had just been trolls.

Now they were friends. Companions.

Friends who her child had seen slaughtered.

“And then, you came for us. Right before we were going to kill Enrique.”

Barbara closed her eyes at Jim’s words. From the sound of Jim’s voice, he could have been describing the weather.

“Mama, Papi?”  Claire hadn’t moved from Jim’s arms.

“Yes?” Javier said. He had been gripping the chair so hard the wood was splintering.

“If you don’t want me to stay here… Because you’re worried about Enrique… I understand. I can go stay with Jim or the trolls.”

“No!” Javier and Ophelia spoke simultaneously.

“This is your _home_ , Claire!”  Javier said. “It will a _lways_ be your home.”

“Enrique is safe with you!” Ophelia said. “We’ve never dreamed otherwise, and nothing you have said changes our mind.”

“Oh. Okay,” Claire replied. “I… I need to change.”

“So do I,” Jim said. The armor slowly faded from him, to reveal wet clothes.

“I’ll help you,” Barbara said quietly.  Moments later, she was guiding Jim up the stairs to the guest room, Claire preceding them with Ophelia.

 

* * *

 

Ophelia didn’t know what to think as she led Claire up the stairs, her daughter acting much younger than she was.

Ophelia’s oldest child had been preparing to kill her youngest.

Out of mercy, to save him from an even worse fate.

But that wasn’t the worst.

Claire was afraid of _her_. Her own mother. She’d fled from Ophelia, not out of defiance, but out of _terror._ Ophelia couldn’t forget her frantic eyes, the way she’d been trembling even as they screamed at each other, the way she’d looked from side to side for some escape route. Her daughter had huddled into Jim’s arms on the couch, knees pulled up to her chest, refusing to meet Ophelia’s eyes, even as she told them what had happened in that soft voice, so unlike Claire’s normal tone.  Ophelia could see it, see that Claire expected to be _thrown out_. She’d even mentioned it. That if they didn’t feel comfortable, she could go live with the Trolls or Jim, away from Enrique.

Claire had been the good child. Always ahead of the curve. It had been natural to challenge her. To make certain she just didn’t cruise through life.

It had made sense to let her handle more and more of working with Enrique. She didn’t protest and got along wonderfully with the baby.

Being disappointed in B grades… well, why not, Claire could do so much more, even if she seemed to spend a little too much time on fun but not useful things like her drama clubs and her garage band.

Expectation after expectation, never noticing just how much she was putting on her child’s slim shoulders. Never realizing just how far they had drifted, until Claire hadn’t even been able to tell them about the trolls—until she’d felt venturing into _hell_ was a safer decision than just talking to her mother.

And _Claire_ had paid for it.  She had curled into Jim’s arms for comfort, because she didn’t trust—no, because she _feared—_ her mother. Gunmar may have tortured her, may have harmed her…

But _Ophelia_ had been an unknowing accomplice in his deeds.

And she didn’t know what to say. Tax policy? Easy. Election speeches? She could do them in her sleep.

What to say to her daughter, sitting naked in the steaming bath, letting the heat banish the chill of the rain?  Her daughter, who was just staring at the far wall.

She didn’t know. She didn’t know what to say to Claire, who had given _everything_ for their family. Her innocence, her joy…

She took the brush out, and did what she had done years before, when Claire was young and upset about something.  She started brushing out the tangles in her hair, Claire almost imperceptibly relaxing as Ophelia ran the brush through her hair.

Right now. Right here. This little thing, she could do. 

 

* * *

 

“May I help you?” Blinky asked.  Barbara had tried to prepare tea, but her hands were shaking too much to pour the hot water. He took the kettle from her and filled the cups.

“I—Thank you,” Barbara said. “Walter agreed to sit with Jim while Ophelia gets Claire ready for bed. I—I think tonight at least, they’ll need some sleep aids.”

“I agree.” The troll had finished pouring the drink. “I never…”

“What?”

“I never intended  Jim to become the trollhunter. We were shocked. But then…” He sighed. “They won, and they kept winning, and to us, it seemed like they were thriving. Somewhere along the line, even if we called them whelps…”  He shook his head. “Maybe we should destroy the amulet when this is over. Let Jim and Claire and Tobias be whelps again.”

“It’s too late for that, Mr. Blinky,” Barbara said.  “They can’t just go home again and pretend none of this happened.”

“No. I suppose not.” All six eyes closed. “I suppose not.”

* * *

 

 

When Ophelia returned, when Jim and Claire were asleep, the adults, trolls, and Toby sat in the warm living room.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Barbara finally said. “We need help. Help that knows.”

“Who?”  Javier said, looking at his hand, actually bruised from how tightly he’d clenched it. “Most people here are going to…”

“I have a friend. An old friend. He helped me through a difficult period, and well… One of his specialties is dealing with traumatic injuries and events.”  Barbara sighed. “Because I can’t keep doing this—I’m not objective and I’ve already broken one of the most important rules of a doctor.”

“Rule?”

“ _First, do no harm_. I tried to do something I’m not prepared or trained for, and well, Steve might have died, Claire might have been arrested and God knows what Jim might have done. We need someone who can be objective, even if it means telling us something we don’t want to hear, who can read their state of mind, and who has some clue on what to do. A professional who will _know everything_ about their case _._ ”

“What will the rest of the trolls think?” Javier asked.

“Not their business,” Arrrggghhh rumbled.

“Agreed, old friend. Jim, Master Tobias and Fair Claire have given everything for Trollmarket, when they could have simply refused and left. They are owed anything we can do for them, and besides—this is _human_ business.  I will inform Vendel and he will no doubt snap like a grumpy gnome but… As much as he conceals it, he also has great affection for the three and is a healer himself.  He will not attempt to deny them the care they require.”

“Why is everyone saying three, I’m fine.” Toby said.  Everyone looked at him. “Okay, mostly.”

“Because you’re a caregiver, in addition to everything else you have been doing,” Barbara said. “And trust me, caregivers endure a lot of stress. I’ll send him a text then,” Barbara smiled as she pulled out her phone. “He’ll know it’s important.”

“Oh?” Strickler asked.

“Yes. ‘Jim’s in the bathroom and won’t come out.’”  She looked up at the others. “That’s the same type of message Jim sent Wilhelm when he was ten, and I was having a nervous breakdown and had locked myself in the bathroom. It… wasn’t a good time.” She finished sending it. “He’ll probably—” the phone beeped at her. “Well. ‘I’m on my way. Be there tomorrow, AM.’  He always was a night owl.”

“Hope he isn’t prone to freaking, doc,” Not-Enrique said. “You’re gonna be dumping a lot on him.”

“I know, but I don’t think we have any other options.”

 

 


	27. Getting Outside Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And finally, someone shows up with some knowledge of how to handle trauma. Let's see how things go.

It was early the next morning when a firm knock sounded on their door. Barbara shot up from where she’d been dozing on the couch. Blinky and Arrrggghhh, were both awake and in the Nunez’s basement, but everyone else was asleep. She’d shooed Claire’s parents to bed, Jim and Claire were deep asleep, aided by some potent medications, and Toby had been sent back to his Nana to keep watch on her.

“Hello, Barbara,” Wilhelm said when she opened the door. “New house?”  He was leaning on his trademark cane, and Barbara frowned.

“No. Have you been taking care of your leg?”

“Now Barbara, every shrink needs to be eccentric, and yes, I have. The cane is mostly for show… And well, it does do me well on long walks.”  He opened his arms and hugged her. “I know you wouldn’t call me if it wasn’t serious Barbara. I’ll do what I can for Jim.”

“Not just Jim…”

“Ms. Nunez, as well?”  Barbara opened her eyes slightly.

“You know?”

“No matter how much you try to conceal it, two children being kidnapped for a fight club?  Be glad they’re minors, or you’d be up to your eyeballs in reporters.”

“Ah. That’s…” Barbara sighed. “Javier and Ophelia need their sleep, Toby’s at his Nana’s and Jim and Claire are both sleeping the sleep of the medicated.” At Wilhelm’s look, she raised her hands. “Just last night, Wilhelm. I’m not addicting my child or his… Girlfriend.”

Wilhelm raised his eyebrows at the last. Seeing it, Barbara shook her head.

“They’re a lot more than your typical couple. Not physically intimate, but… they’re very close. Given everything that has happened, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“And can you tell me what has happened? From the way you’re talking, I’m assuming the truth is different.”

“Yes. I…” Barbara closed her eyes. “Wilhelm, there are some things here that have to stay secret. _Have_ to.  I swear it is nothing that will hurt Jim, Claire, or Toby, nor is it anything criminal. But if it comes out, a lot of people could die.”

“I see. How about we stop beating around the bush, then.”

“Okay.” She looked to the door to the Nunez’s basement. “Mr. Blinky? I have someone for you to meet.”

Wilhelm heard the door open and then… A four-armed, six-eyed humanoid came around the corner.

_Good lord_.  The fact that Barbara might be playing a trick didn’t even occur to him. The figure was moving with the kind of fluidity that no costume or robot could duplicate.

“Mr. Blinky?  This is Wilhelm Kruz—the man who is going to help the children. Wilhelm, this is Mr. Blinky. He’s a troll.”

“I believe… That we should probably sit down and talk.” Wilhelm stared at Blinky. _My God. Sapient, nonhuman life. Here. On Earth. Everyone looking to the stars for wonder and it was here with us all the time._

 

 

* * *

 

By the time Barbara had finished her brief recapitulation of troll lore, with help from Blinky, Ophelia and Javier had woken up, though from their red eyes and defensive posture, Wilhem figured they hadn’t gotten much sleep. The kids were still asleep. The adults started talking about what had happened, and Wilhelm raised his hand.

“Just the synopsis, please.”

“You don—”

“I need to talk to Claire and Jim, _first_ and find out what they’re comfortable sharing. I can’t do that if they think I’m running around and hearing what you say about them when they’re out of the room.”  He frowned, then nodded, looking over to Ophelia and Javier. “Barbara knows this, when she isn’t playing psychologist, and we _will_ be talking about that”—Barbara winced—”But it’s understandable given the situation. However, when you’re talking about working with people to learn how to handle their past experiences, how to come to terms with them, they _must_ be able to trust you. That’s why I’m going to tell you all, right here, right now, unless Claire and Jim give me permission, or I believe that they are an _imminent_ threat to themselves or others, I will not disclose what we’re talking about.  So, just give me the bare bones. Later, if Claire and Jim are willing, we can all sit down and talk.”

An hour later, Wilhelm leaned back. Barbara had gotten him some tea, which was now cold on the table.

_Child soldiers. Christ and all his angels._ Held prisoner, beaten, tortured, and probably worse.  Worst of all…

“The problem, as I see it, is that the traditional goal would be to show them how to put this behind them, but it isn’t, is it?” Wilhelm asked.

“I—”

“Gunmar is still alive, and may or may not be wandering around on the surface, and I’m presuming the sight of the surface was unlikely to have convinced him to take up a life of meditation.”

Blinky’s snort said all that needed to be said.

“No, but how—” Wilhelm cut off Javier.

“Your kids may be saf _er_ but they are not safe. This is still an active combat zone—it’s like getting pulled away from the countryside and sent to Baghdad back when we were in Iraq. You’re a little safer, but people are _still_ trying to kill you and you never know when the shoe is going to drop.” He shrugged. “So we can’t exactly tell Jim, Toby and Claire ‘no need to worry now’, can we? Because they _do_ have a reason to worry.”

“They’re children, they just shouldn’t—”

“No. They shouldn’t. But they have.” Wilhelm caught Ophelia’s eyes. “Just like all those little kids who walked into Dachau shouldn’t. Just like the kids who starved in Africa shouldn’t—hell, just like the kids around _right now_ who associate daddy with getting slugged instead of getting hugged shouldn’t. And we, all of us, have to be honest, and not try to shove them back into a box that life has tossed them out. Understand this. The Claire, Jim and Toby you knew from before this aren’t coming back—not unchanged. War does that to people.  Taking on adult responsibilities does that to people. As much as you want to, as much as you think it will protect them, you should—you _can_ _’t_ take that away from them and try to reduce them to being mere children again.”

In the silence that followed, they all heard the sound of the bedroom door opening.

_Well, now, let_ _’s see if you can live up to Barbara’s hopes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author note: While trying to be a bit more “Real world” in some respects, this is one of the areas where you just have to go with the story. There is a lot of stuff that happened in Arcadia that should have been world wide news, like, for example, an entire school worth of children being dosed with some mind-altering substance that called up their greatest fears while leaving them unaware of the wider world. So, we just have to assume that in some cases, things that would normally be tremendously public—are not.
> 
> Equally, I could spend pages with Wilhelm having a freak out, but you know what? This isn’t the 1920s, and I’m certain more than a few people’s immediate reaction would be “oh my God, that is so cool” So I’m not going to waste page count on it. 
> 
> Note that this is an OC, and OC's can always be a bit... dicy. Tell me if you think he's working. Note also, he's not going to become a major character--the good Doctor won't be going out on mission...


	28. Initial Consultations

Wilhelm watched as the two came down the stairs, moving slowly, holding hands.

“Jim, remember Wilhelm?” Barbara asked. “Claire, you’ve never met him, but Dr. Kruz is a friend of the family.”

“Oh. Hi, Dr. Kruz,” Jim said. There was exhaustion in his voice, not physical, but mental. Next to him, Claire looked at the other adults, flinched and looked at Wilhelm.

“Are you a psychologist?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“So… We’re crazy?” Jim asked. He tried to smile, but the expression flickered and died.

“Was your mother crazy when she locked herself in the bathroom?” Wilhelm asked.

“No!” Jim’s outburst was reflexive.

“Than neither are you. But it’s best not to talk on an empty stomach, and I don’t think anyone has had breakfast yet.”

“I can fix something,” Jim said.

“Jim, I don’—” Barbara fell silent at Wilhelm’s minute headshake. “If you could,” she said.

“Great,” Jim said, seeming to brighten up. “I think you have enough for some omelets…” With that, he vanished into the kitchen, followed by Claire.

“Let them choose, Barbara,” Wilhelm said softly. “Jim enjoys cooking and it’s something normal. Solid ground for them to stand upon, even when everything else is shifting beneath their feet.”

The sound of clattering plates, interspersed with Jim and Claire talking, filled the living room. A few minutes later, Toby appeared, walking in.

“How—”

“Oh, hey, Tobes, you showed up in time for breakfast,” Jim said, poking his head into the living room. “It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“Need my help?”

“Sure.”

 

* * *

 

With Toby putting out the plates, it was only a few minutes before Jim and Claire were finished. Wilhelm raised his eyebrows at the selection of omelets and sliced fruit. _That boy has a future as a chef, if he wants it._ _If he’s allowed to make that choice_.

The meal was occupied with small talk, mostly focusing on a certain Mary Wang’s grounding for missing curfew, and Steve and Eli’s new LARP club. When Barbara mentioned that Wilhelm was fully knowledgeable about their situation, Toby amended it to “goblin fighting club.”

“I really don’t like that,” Claire murmured. “Eli’s small and Steve… He really buys his own rep.”

“He’s gotten better.” Toby gestured with a fork.

“But does he remember rule one?” Jim said.

“Rule one?” Wilhelm asked.

“Always be afraid,” the three kids chorused.

“Steve’s used to being the big guy,” Jim said. “But it doesn’t matter how big you are, if you try to go head to head with a troll, you’ll _lose_.”

“He knows. Draal knocked some sense into him,” Toby said.

“Knocked him out, you mean, Master Tobias,” Blinky said as he exited from the basement door. “I’ve just returned from Trollmarket. Vendel approves, although he’s started muttering about how long before fleshbag tour buses start driving through Trollmarket.”

Claire laughed. “That’s actually pretty good for Vendel. What did you bribe him with, Blinky?”

“Nothing, actually. He does care for you, after all,” Blinky said in a softer voice.

But soon enough breakfast was finished, and Claire and Jim were looking nervous again.

“So…” Claire said. “Shrink time?” She tried to smile, but Wilhelm noticed how she reached out and gripped Jim’s hand.

“Hmmm…” Wilhelm paused, thinking. “Before I answer that, I think you need to know why Barbara called me. I’m not just someone she knows who helped her through a bad time. I put my twenty in with the LAPD before I was forced out due to injuries. Got bored, and picked up some degrees which name me a psychologist. My main focus is on stress and trauma-related conditions, and in helping people _manage_ them. Your case is… well more difficult than most.”

“Why?”  Jim asked.

“Because, according to what I’ve heard, you’re still in an active combat zone and you cannot just leave. So I can’t help you ignore that little voice in your head that says: always be afraid, because that might _kill_ you.”

“Oh.”

“But as a part of that, you three have paid your dues. Which means, unlike a lot of other legally minor clients I’ve had, I’m going to be treating your confidentiality in the same way I would an _adult’s_ , which is to say, I will only discuss what you say to me with your parents if you give me your approval. The only other case where I would tell other parties is if I believe one or both of you are an _imminent_ threat to yourself or others.”

“I…” Claire looked over at her mother, flinched. “Don’t want to lie.”

“Oh, we won’t be doing that, but it’s neither a lie nor improper to say: I’m not ready to share this information with others, not just yet.”

“Oh.” Jim frowned. “When can we start?”

“Now, if you like.”

“I—” Jim swallowed. “Can we. I hit—”  He swallowed again.

“Jim, we can talk about that, among everything else. Now, how do you three want to do this?”

“I’ll stay down here,” Toby said quickly. “I’ve got to do some stuff.”

_Of course. Toby was safe here, so how dare he consider his feelings equal to his friends. That may take some delicate handling…_

“If there’s a private room we could use…” Wilhelm asked.

“Oh—yes, my office!” Ophelia said. “I’ll show you!”

With that, Wilhelm, Jim, and Claire followed Ophelia out of the room.

 

* * *

 

Barbara expected it would take some time. She didn’t expect over three hours. The others sat in the living room, talking, sometimes about important things, sometimes about meaningless things, Toby flicking through the TV and not watching a thing. They could occasionally hear raised voices from above. Shouts. Every time it happened, there’d be an aborted move to go up and see what was going on.

_No. Trust Wilhelm._

Finally, well after lunch, they came down. Jim and Claire…

_They’ve been crying._

Jim swallowed, once, twice. “So… Backyard?”

“If you want to,” Wilhelm said. “The sun, I think will do you both good. A good reminder, as it were.”

“Y-yeah,” Jim said, raised Claire’s hand to his lips, kissed it. “You—we told you that you can tell…” He swallowed again. “Everything.”

“And I will.” Wilhelm paused. “Thank you, both. For your trust.”

With that, the two left, and Toby, sparing not a glance, headed out after them.  When the door closed, Wilhelm sighed. “We’re going to have to convince Toby to talk with me, but I’ll see about that later.”

“Are they better?”  Javier asked. “Have you—”

“Made progress? Yes. Are we finished? No. Close to finished? No. However, congratulations, you have some of the bravest, _most stable_ children I’ve ever met. Had a soldier, or a police officer, undergone a tenth of what they have, he’d be pulled off active duty _immediately._   I cannot overstate how _strong_ they have been, in the face of literally unimaginable challenges and torments.”

“But Claire and Steve…” Ophelia started.

“That wasn’t…” Wilhem sighed. “That was a reaction—something triggered her memories of events in the Darklands, and then things happened to trigger her reaction. She wasn’t hallucinating, she wasn’t crazy, _especially_ not in the Hollywood sense. You’ll note that within a matter of _seconds_ both Claire and Jim realized what they had done, and _stopped doing it_.”

“Like a flashback?” Javier asked.

“Yes, though again, beware associating that with what popular media tells you it is.” Wilhelm gratefully accepted a glass of tea from Barbara. “The good news is that one of their primary long-term stresses is gone.” Everyone looked at him, and he raised his eyebrows. “Lying to you. Do you think your children _enjoyed_ carrying this load alone? Toby deserves a medal for coming clean.  Now, at least, they don’t have to deal with their civilian lives collapsing around their ears because their parents think they’re turning into criminals or going crazy.”

“But Doctor, if Claire or Jim have another… incident,” Ophelia bit her lip. “In public, the police—it might be out of our hands.”

“I know. We’ll be dealing with that by helping Claire and Jim learn ways of _managing_ events that threaten to bring back poor memories. There are a few ways—one is avoidance. If they realize certain things cause difficulties, they can simply avoid them. For example, I knew a friend in the force who was called to a body…  Typical case, old woman lives alone, dies from a heart attack and nobody calls it in for three days—in 103 degree LA weather. The body sort of sublimated, and so for the longest time, he’d avoid certain types of foods that reminded him of that call.”

“Yeah,” Barbara said. _I never did like white frosting after Jim’s father left…_

“Now, secondly, we’ll be working on finding ways to break the spiral—which is to say; it’s dark, so you’re thinking about X. But you’re in your room, and on a carpet, so you obviously _can’t_ be in the Darklands…”  Wilhelm leaned forward. “I want everyone to understand that the _vast_  majority of people who have had terrible experiences go on to recover and triumph, especially with assistance.”

“Should I try and convince Principal Uhl to reduce Claire’s punishment?”

“For bringing a deadly weapon on campus? Given how much slack you have already been cut, I wouldn’t advise it. I’ll be speaking to the authorities tomorrow as the professional on record working with Jim and Claire, to try and establish a school plan to better manage things.” Wilhelm paused. “Besides, Claire knows she screwed up and expects consequences. By pulling them away, you’re not helping her, you’re _infantilizing_ her. Remember, for nearly a year she, Jim, and Toby have been making life and death decisions on a nearly daily basis. You can’t take that away from them.”

For a moment, Barbara looked towards the back. She could see the three sitting, evidently talking.  Jim and Claire looked…

_Better._ Or maybe that was the parent talking.

“I would give anything to take this away from them,” she murmured.

“So would any loving parent. But, as a particularly traumatic book once said: ‘But there is no bargain: what is, is what must be.’”

Barbara sighed. _Maybe, but it doesn’t keep me from wishing…_  


	29. Going Back to School: Claire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long weekend, and talks with her doctor, Claire returns to school. Will she survive? Will everyone around her survive?

“Back to school…” Claire said to herself, trying not to look nervous. She’d spent most of her unexpectedly long weekend at her or Jim’s house.  She didn’t feel like running around, and besides, if someone from school saw her and decided she’d been faking being upset…  No. That wasn’t a good idea.

Mary and Darcie had called, asking her how she was—Mary even having somehow managed to get out of grounding long enough to make a (short) phone call. Claire had explained the event with a story about dozing off and getting suddenly scared, and her friends had let her get away with it.

Even if she had a feeling that neither one _believed_ her.

_Dr. Kruz was right. Being able to tell the truth to Mom and Dad, even if not anyone else, really does make things better._  At least at home, she didn’t have the feeling that everything was always one step from catastrophe.

Though there were things she didn’t want to tell them. Not yet. They treated her like she might break at any moment as it was. That’s why she kept talking to Dr. Kruz about some things she didn’t want anyone else to speak of.

 

 

* * *

 

“He kept telling me I was broken, pitiful…” Jim wasn’t there. Claire didn’t want him to hear this. “And then when we were about to k—” She broke off her words, wiped her eyes.

Wilhelm raised his eyebrows.  “Ah. Before that, the beating, the one that Jim becomes so furious over. What did Gunmar do?”

“He… Beat me. I felt him break a rib. It was after we’d fought his warriors and we hadn’t had much food and—” She took a deep breath. Closed her eyes. Ran her hand alongside the couch. There were no couches in the Darklands. She was here, above and they were just talking.

“And what did you do after he knocked you down?”

“Got up. I had to.”

“Had to? Why not beg?”

“I—no!”

“Very well, and when he knocked you down again, you got up. When did you not get up again?”

“When I  couldn’t. My leg…and my face was so swollen I couldn’t even see out of it…”

“And did Gunmar sound… Happy?”

Claire blinked. Why wouldn’t—”No…” she said, thinking it over. “He sounded angry. I mean, he always sounds angry, but…”

“But more so than usual.”

“Yes.”

“Because you humiliated him. In front of his soldiers. The physical victory? Never in doubt. Forgive me for saying this, but Blinky has shown me art of Gunmar and well, even were you healthy, a physical victory was unlikely in the extreme.”

“Not impossible?” Claire asked, a ghost of a smile touching her lips.

“I’ve seen your backyard sparring sessions with Jim, Toby, Draal and Arrrggghhh. You, my dear lady, _cheat_.” Kruz smiled. “But he didn’t want you dead at his feet. He wanted you _begging at his feet_. And there you are, the slip of a little human girl, wounded, hungry, her only ally in a cage… And yet you Kept. Getting. Up.” He stared at Claire for a moment, then nodded. “Even at the end, you weren’t giving in. At worst, Gunmar would have had three corpses and been forever locked away for his pains.”

“I… He kept telling me…”

“So does every dictator. So does every abuser. They have to sell it, you see, they have to make their _victim_ believe that they have lost—because if they cannot, then the seeds of their own destruction have been sown. You went in for others. You depended on your ally, and your friends went into hell to rescue you. You never gave up—your entire _life_ is a repudiation of Gunmar. Congratulations, Claire, if we judge people by their enemies, we should judge you very highly indeed.”

Claire was silent, thinking about what he’d just said when Kruz spoke again.

“Now on another subject, how are you feeling about school…”

“Terrified?”

“Oh, is there a test awaiting you?” 

To her surprise, Claire had burst out into laughter.

 

* * *

 

But at school, they were met with a Principle Uhl, who escorted Claire and Jim to his office. He sat down, and frowned for a moment.

“I have spoken with Dr. Kruz, and it is plain that we failed you. So, we have established some new procedures. Mr. Lake, Ms. Nunez, should either of you start to feel anxious, feel that you cannot remain in class, you can leave class without speaking to the teacher, and come here or to the nurse’s office, whichever you feel more comfortable with. I know that you will not abuse this. If at any time, you feel unable to come to school, your parents can inform the attendance office.” He sighed. “Ms. Nunez, as you know, we must… Ensure that you haven’t brought any devices to school. The deputy is waiting for you in the nurse’s office. If you want your mother pres—

“No thanks!” Claire said. That would make this even more mortifying. She quickly left, heading to the nurse’s office, hoping that nobody would flag her down. They didn’t, and fortunately, the police officer was female.

“I, um, need to take off my clothes?” Claire had worn her most modest underwear, which at this point didn’t seem modest enough.

“No, young lady,” the deputy smiled. “We’re just going to do a frisk and scan with the metal detector.”

Claire did not exhale in relief and that was the story she was sticking with. The scan was quick, and the deputy gave the nurse a thumbs up before she left.

The rest of the day went well, after Steve and Eli made a point of coming up and talking to her. Darcy and Mary were also joining their little group as did Jim and Toby. At the last class, they were seeing a video, and as the lights went down, Claire looked around the room, the other students indistinct in the darkness. She started to shiver. The gumm-gumms had looked like that, peering down at her…

 

_Remember, if one sense betrays you, use the others to remind you where you are_.

 

 There was no rumbling like there was in the Darklands. Claire closed her eyes, listening to the students whispering and giggling. Ran her feet over the smooth floor, and then opened her mouth and drew in a breath of living air.

She exhaled, and watched the video.

She wasn’t fine. Not by any means. But she was surviving. She wasn’t on the ground, begging.

“And for now, that’s a win,” Claire murmured.


	30. Going Back to School: Jim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim Goes Back to School.

Jim sat in his seat, trying not to squirm.

He was in his class, and _Claire_ was in her class. Not here. Alone, where… Jim clenched one hand.

_But it’s Claire’s class. She needs to be there._

But the last time he’d left her alone, she had…

“Don’t put her in a box, Jim,” he whispered to himself.

 

* * *

 

“I shouldn’t have let her come! You saw how badly she was hurt!”

“Did you force her?” Doctor Kruz’s voice was neutral.

“No, but I—I shouldn’t have _let_ her—”

“So you mean, you have the right to compel her. To grab her and say, slam her down on the chair if she’s about to go where you don’t want her to.”

“I, no, I mean. She got _hurt!”_ Crying again. Why was he always crying when they talked?

“And she could get hurt going to school. She could get hurt cooking. Being afraid for our loved ones is normal, Jim. But there’s a fine line between love and possession, and fear sometimes causes us to jump over that line, and become the very danger we’re supposedly protecting our loved one from.” Kruz frowned. “The dream, where she’s begging you for help, accusing you of lying.”

“Yes.” He couldn’t look up. Not now.

“Has she ever said that in the waking world?”

“No, but—”

“No buts, Jim. Claire is a strong-willed young woman, and I sincerely doubt she would avoid telling you what she thinks. And what _has_ she told you?”

“It was…was her decision, but she was hurting so _badly.”_

“Yes she was. But Jim, you’re not a god. It is not your place to order the ways of the world, just the little bits you can control. Claire’s decisions are her own—respect that.”

“But it was all my fau—”

“ _No._ ” Doctor Kruz’s voice dropped an octave. “Do not disrespect Claire by saying that.”

“Dis—”

“If you say it was _all_ your fault, you’re saying equally that Claire had no choice. That she was an infant, no less than Enrique. Do you consider her an infant?”

Jim bit his lip, as he thought about what Kruz said, shame rising up from some deep place within him. “No,” he whispered.

“When Claire comes to you at night, it’s not for her sake is it? It’s for yours. _She_ is there, protecting _you_ from those dreams where all your guilt comes up to attack you.”

“Yes.”

“Just like you’ve comforted her. I know that she has had nightmares, times when she sees something that triggers a memory, and when you are there, you comfort her.”

“Yeah.”

“Jim, we are, all of us, helpless at times. As much as Hollywood tries to sell the stereotype of the manly man or woman who never cries… Well, it’s fantasy for a reason, and a fairly unhealthy one at that.”

“You’ve never met anyone like that?” Jim said, eyes red. _God, wouldn’t that be wonderful, to never feel like this._

“Oh I have. They solved their issues by a simple expedient. They never fell in love. Not with anyone. Not with anything. Your heart cannot be hurt if you yourself have destroyed it, after all. The fantasy part of those movies comes in trying to sell the idea that the ‘cure’ is better than the disease.”

Jim gulped. Maybe it wouldn’t be so wonderful. To not love Claire…

“How do I…” He shook his head, grabbed some tissue and angrily wiped his eyes. “Fix this?”

“With effort.” Kruz smiled. “First of all, Jim, I want you, whenever you find yourself falling into this mood to ask: are you focusing on what happened, or what your fear has conjured up?

 “Claire never begged you for help. She never accused you of lying. That’s your own guilt speaking. As terrible as the past has been, and it _was_ terrible, _those_ events never happened.”

“That’s… That’s gonna be hard. “

“I know. I have faith in you. Secondly, when you worry about the future… What can you do about it?”

“I—I’m getting back up to speed on sparring, and we’re working more with Steve and Eli…”

“So you’re doing everything you can. If you worry too much about the future, you’ll find yourself dreaming up a thousand alternate possibilities, each one worse then the one before and more importantly, _most of them mutually exclusive_. You could walk out this door and a meteor could fall on you and kill you. You could walk across the street and get hit by a car. You could go to the local McDonalds for lunch and Gunmar could kill you while you’re wondering why he’s wearing a cashier’s uniform.”

Jim burst out in laughter at the last, but then fell silent. “But… Only one of those _could_ happen…”

“Right. I’m not saying don’t _prepare_ for the future, but don’t be hagridden by it, either. Thinking about everything that might happen just exhausts you, mentally and physically. Only one possibility can actually happen at any given time. Make your preparations, and then go about _today’s_ business.”

“Should I… Tell Claire to not come to bed…”

“That’s probably a first for a teenaged male.”

Jim’s face slowly turned red and Kruz chuckled. “A joke, because we all trust you. And for your answer-did I say that you shouldn’t accept _help_? As much as it would be convenient, you can’t turn this off with a switch. Claire is helping you, and she’ll continue to help you, because…”

“She decided to.”

“And you will help her for the same reason. You’re partners, and neither one of you needs to shoulder the burden alone.”

 

* * *

 

_Claire is in her class. If something happened I would hear. So nothing has happened. And I have to trust her. She’s not a baby. Not a child. She’s Claire, and she helped me._

_I **Do** trust her. _ Claire had been stronger in the Darklands. Without armor, without a magic sword, she’d endured sickness, being beaten, but she’d never quit. She’d never begged or accused Jim.

Those were just his nightmares.

Jim slowly relaxed his hand, and looked up, trying to focus on the lesson. He could do this.

Yes. He could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim has, in canon, a real bad case of "martyr complex." It comes, in part from his role in taking care of his mom, but there are several cases where he moves from trying to help his friends, to unilaterally deciding for his friends--and that ain't healthy.


	31. Parental Chats

 

“So, the kids are doing…” Javier trailed off.

“Better,” Barbara said. “Right, Wilhelm?”  _I’m not risking another lecture about the hell that awaits people who aren’t psychologists trying to play them._

“Yes,” Wilhelm chuckled. “I have some meetings with Toby coming up. He was dodging me with the excuse that Jim and Claire needed _all_ my time, but now…”

“How is he?” Ophelia asked, then ducked her head. “I mean, I know you can’t tell everything, but of all the children, he’s already had to help take care of his Nana…”

“Well, Toby’s grandmother is somewhat less dotty than she lets on,” Wilhelm said. “But he was doing better than either Jim or Claire, and not just because he didn’t go into the Darklands. In a storm oaks break and bamboo bends.  Still, it’s past time that we talked, and I’ve warned him that he can either talk to me tomorrow, or I’ll hobble over to his house and corner him. If that doesn’t work, Arrrggghhh can carry him to me.”

“That’s good, but I called you here for another reason,” Barbara said. The sky was blue, the sun shining, the kids at school… _And Now I get to bring everyone down._   “Jim proved that in some respects, he’s _still_ a teenager. So is Claire.”

“Oh?” Wilhelm leaned forward.

“He suggested that if Gunmar came back, we might need to evacuate the town. In a few hours. You know, not a problem, there’s only 45,000 people here, not counting the surrounding towns and cities.”

“Shiii-shoot.” Javier shook his head. “A few hours?”

“Watching Jim and Claire turn pale for reasons that have nothing to do with trauma was…” Barbara shook her head. “Not fun. But they did, when I mentioned how long it would take to clear the critical care patients in the hospital, the premature maternity ward, never mind anything else…”

“Daycare centers, convalescent and nursing homes, the elderly _at_ home…” Ophelia took her job seriously. “Not to mention depending on when it happened half the parents would be coming to schools to find their kids…”  She looked around. “Evacuate in a few hours?  _Maybe_ a day, twelve hours, but that assumes everything goes right.”

“It won’t.” Wilhelm frowned. “I don’t know about the town, but most LAPD plans presumed that evacuations would be limited—in case of fire after an earthquake, for example, but that the vast majority of people would shelter in place. Not many plans involved a hostile invasion.”

“Yes.” Ophelia said. “But maybe sheltering in place would be best—according to the kids, the gumm gumms are bigger than many trolls and the ones we’ve seen in Trollmarket… Could you imagine what they could do to a bunch of cars stuck in a traffic jam?  At least hiding in their homes they wouldn’t be concentrated, and we have to assume that Jim, Toby and—and Claire could be keeping their attention divided.

Javier patted his wife’s hand. “It also depends on how much time we have. If it’s only a few minutes and we told everyone to run…”

“Gunmar wouldn’t _have_ to kill everyone—the panicked mob would trample everyone who fell down, especially if it happened during an event.” Wilhelm sighed.

“But we have to think of something,” Barbara said. “Before he turned on them, Walter was willing to use me against Jim. I don’t think Gunmar would scruple from killing civilians to distract Jim.”

“A dirty bomb.” Wilhelm raised his hands. “That’s what we need.”

“ _What?”_ Ophelia said.

“Oh, I get it…” Barbara said. “Not a real one, but if something like that was set off, we’d have a perfect reason to evacuate.”

“We do have some procedures for terrorist attacks using WMD’s,” Ophelia said.

“And,” Barbara said, brightening, “If they’re supposedly _chemical_ weapons or dirty bombs, depending on where they ‘went off’ we could clear parts of the city…”

“One minor problem with that,” Wilhelm said. “You need at least some of the local police on your side. With respect, Ophelia, you have no military or police experience and neither does Barbara. If either one of you start screaming about dirty bombs, the first step of the local police and firefighters is going to be verify—which will prove that the claim was false.”

“We can’t tell them the truth just before we’re going to do it,” Ophelia said. “Even if they immediately believe us…”

“There would be no time to alert the police on the street that they’d be facing ground attack.”

“If we bring one in, and we prove wrong…” Javier said.

“Our kids could be arrested,” Barbara said.

“Being arrested might be the least of their worries.” Wilhelm frowned. “All of them have information _and abilities_ that a fair number of intelligence agencies would kill for. The ability to _teleport?_   Let Claire attune to an object and mail it somewhere and you have something that can ignore national boundaries. As for getting them away from you, well how long would a jury take to decide that the type of families that let their kids fight in secret wars aren’t good guardians, especially if the court is stacked.”

“That’d piss off the trolls,” Javier muttered.

“Yes. Worst case, someone does something stupid and…” Ophelia raised her hands in an exploding gesture. “Most of the trolls get convinced Gunmar is _right_.”  She shook her head. “It might almost be worth not preparing but…”

“But if Gunmar does attack, seeing half the population of an American city eaten could kick off the war he wants, even if he gets killed.” Barbara muttered.

“And if that happens, your children will find themselves in a very uncomfortable position,” Wilhelm’s voice was grim. “Because at that point, they will be American citizens working with a hostile power. They would either have to betray the trolls or risk being branded traitors.”

Ophelia ran a hand over her face. “Detective Scott was quite protective of the kids. I’ll try talking to him more—I have an, um in, because Claire is being forced to submit to searches, nobody will raise an eyebrow if I talk to him as a private citizen.”

“We should start making a list of people who _absolutely_ must know,” Barbara said.

“And talk to the trolls,” Javier mentioned. “I don’t think that Usurna lady is happy, but hey, they’re bringing their war to our city…”

“Yes,” Wilhelm said. “And pragmatically, the fewer humans who die, the more likely it is that we’ll be able to get back to the status quo ante-bellum, which should please the trolls.”   He chuckled. “So, Ophelia, Claire has mentioned you’re ambitious.”

“Yes?”

“How does it feel—you’ll be making decisions that could determine literally the entire course of human history from this point on. You know, like Caesar, Lincoln, Chu—”

“Chamberlain, Napoleon when he decided to visit Russia…” Ophelia looked slightly pale. “I wanted to change things, but I was thinking about taking it a little slower, you know, a term in the state assembly, before I graduated to changing the _entire world_.”

“Yes,” Barbara said. “I feel the same way. And our kids have been dealing with this since Jim got that damned amulet.”

“Well, then,” Wilhelm said. “We have time before they get back. Let’s start using it to plan how to make their lives easier if Gunmar ever does become a danger to the city.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We should note that showing up to a crowded outdoor event, and suddenly screaming FLEE! FLEE FOR YOUR LIVES! Is about the worst thing you can do--panic will kill as many as the trolls would. (In fact, most of our worst real-world fires and other such disasters were made far worse by panic, as everyone just ran, all too often into dead ends or crowds where they were crushed long before the disaster itself could kill them.)
> 
> As an aside, this is why, in RL, when you go to a big party, rave, what have you, check your exit route. If things go south, it's too late to ask: hmmm... Now where do I go?


	32. Interlude: Mary Wang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do those who have NO idea about the events going on under the surface think?

Mary was a player. Everyone knew that. She had dated just about every guy and girl at school, and managed to stay friends with them after wards. She was also a little more perceptive than most people assumed. Sometimes you had to be, like when it came time to let someone down easy. And if not everyone noticed that, or noticed how in some cases she was pretty private behind all of the flirting, well, that was good as well.

But Claire, Claire had _scared_ her. Claire had caused her to burst into tears in public for the first time she could remember since her grandparents had passed away. She’d been so… focused, in throwing Eli away and then _killing_ Steve and had only pulled away at the last minute.

And the crying, distraught girl who had to be _led_ out of the gym was almost worse than the killer girl. Claire had always been in charge, and even with the rumor mill, Mary couldn’t believe that _anything_ could do that to her. Jim… Well, Jim could be weird at times, but _Claire?_ No.

And when Claire hadn’t come back, had missed Thursday and Friday, the rumors had redoubled. Claire had been arrested. Claire had been sent to the insane asylum. She was being enrolled in a military academy in San Diego… She had _already_ been enrolled in a secret fighting school, training to be an assassin, and her mask had just slipped.

When Mary called, Claire was just not feeling up to talking, and she’d be back in school on Monday. Or that’s what her mom said, and Mary didn’t even think about pressing the issue. Not with that tone. Darcie hadn’t had any more luck.

“Dad won’t talk to me about Claire or Jim,” she said, when they were eating pizza on Saturday. “Just told me not to press them, and they’ll be back on Monday.” She looked around the diner and lowered her voice. “But he’s _pissed_ at their parents.”

“But why?” Mary asked.

“Dunno,” Darcie said. “But Claire… Mary, Claire doesn’t _cry_.”

“She wasn’t just crying, I mean, Toby had to…” Mary gulped. “Do you think they’ll be back on Monday?”

“I hope so.” Darcie stared down at her pizza. “I hope so.” She shook her head. “Not even Toby will tell me a lot. He even loses his temper if I, um press him.”

_And isn’t that a mystery. Toby_ never _loses his temper. On the other hand, think how often you were crying when they were gone._ Mary had made the mistake of binge viewing the Missing and Exploited Children website and all their stories of horror on the first week Claire and Jim vanished. She just couldn’t _stop,_ staring at every horrible story, tears running down her face, until Mom and Dad came in and disconnected her computer. They’d had to take her phone away, and for once she didn’t complain. She didn’t _want_ to know, but she couldn’t keep from reading. Mom had, for the first time since she was very little, sat in her room with her until she had gone to sleep.

And to be honest, all Mary wanted was for her friend to come back to school.

* * *

 

And Claire did return to school on Monday. Mary missed it, due to a meeting with Principle Uhl who _suggested_ that she be careful what she might put on social media. Mary hadn’t talked back. After all, it wasn’t like she was going to tell everyone about _Claire._

But Claire and Jim were… different. Claire was quieter, almost timid, and Jim spent most of his time in tutoring. Not only that, but in the middle of English, when they were talking about the difference between tragedies and comedies, Claire just got up and _walked out of the room_. Mary winced, waiting for the teacher to bellow, but she didn’t say anything. The next class, Claire was back, a few minutes late, and that teacher just marked her present.

And then there was Jim. Jim had always been shadowing Claire since they’d come back, but Mary quickly noticed that right now, he _wasn’t_. Not as much. He had more classes apart from her, and it seemed like if he noticed himself staring at her, or watching the kids around her, Jim forced himself to pay attention to the teacher, sometimes clenching a fist. At lunch, when people got too close, Jim started to do the threatening thing, but she saw him take a deep breath, while Claire closed her eyes and murmured something.

_Is she praying?_

But then she opened her eyes and moved away from the lockers, smiling and talking.

“Hey Claire!” Mary said, as she moved to the lunch table. “Great to see you back.”

“It’s great to be back,” Claire said. “I’m sor—”

“Don’t be,” Darcie said, sitting by Toby. “You’re allowed.”

“Well,” Claire ducked her eyes. “Jim and I—” She looked up at Jim.

“We’re seeing someone,” Jim said. “A counselor.”

A few teens heard them, looking up, and Mary made an immediate vow. If anyone made jokes about a shrink, she would _destroy_ them socially.

But nobody did.

“That’s good,” Darcie said. “Dad told me that anything a police officer is in a shooting or sees… Bad stuff, a lot of times they have mandatory sessions.”

“Well, it’s…” Claire took a breath. “Helping. I’m not over… you know, what happened. But it’s better.”

“Good,” Mary said patting Claire’s hand. Suddenly, she had a thought. “Especially since we haven’t let you off the hook for missing the Battle of the Bands.”

“Wh—oh, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. We’ll win _this time.”_

“What?” Clarie asked.

“Wh—oh, yeah, you’re right!” Darcie said, shooting Mary a look.

“I—in front of all of those people…” Claire fell silent, and suddenly Mary noticed that her hands were starting to tremble.

_Shit, shit, shit…_ “But we don’t have to do the contest. I mean, it was all about the singing and having an excuse to have a testosterone free zone on the weekend.”

Claire’s hand slowly stopped trembling. “I… Yeah, that would be nice. I haven’t sung for a while.”

“But what would we do?” Toby asked.

“I think—” Jim fell silent, staring at Claire, staring at Darcie and Mary. “I—” He closed his mouth, then shook his head. “That’d be a great idea. I mean, we’ll just be a phone call away.”

Mary thought about joking, but one look at Jim shut that down. He was fighting to sound casual.

With that, Mary moved on to safer subjects.

 

* * *

 

After school, Darcie confronted Mary. “Thanks for not warning me!”

“It just sort of came up, and we still have the equipment.”

“Yeah, but we haven’t done any—”

“It’s a good time to start,” Mary said. “Besides, it’s not the only thing I’m going to do. Remember how Steve and Eli started getting all the absences after Jim and Claire were kidnapped?”

“Yeah. Toby had some, but well, they were all excused by his Nana or Jim and Claire’s parents. He was helping them.”

“Uh-huh,” Mary paused. “And remember how Jim and _Claire_ were getting absences, right before they vanished?”

“I—you think Steve and Eli are involved in whatever—Mary, we’ve gotta tell my dad!”

“We can’t tell your dad, we might be wrong!” Mary hissed. “But I have a better idea. While Claire and Jim were missing, you know that _none_ of our parents would let us out of their sight, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Now they’re a little more relaxed. I think it’s time to follow Steve and Eli, find out what they’re doing and get some _real_ answers.”

“What makes you think they know?”

“They know something, I bet.” Mary glanced over at the school building. “All I have to do is lose my phone in Steve’s bag and use the GPS locater service.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to _know!”_ Mary finally hissed. Darcie’s eyes widened. “Claire’s been, like our best friend since forever, and I want to _know_ who would kidnap them, and why they would let them go!  I was going to ask Claire, but…”

“But she doesn’t need anyone talking about it.” Darcie was also Claire’s friend. “I’m on board. We can stick it in his bag on Friday, and that’ll give us until Monday. Make certain you put it on silent.”

“Oh, I will.” Mary smiled. “Better yet, Steve hates studying, but he keeps a lot of other stuff in his backpack, so he’ll have it with him.”

“What if we run into…” Darcie didn’t say it, but Mary knew what she was hinting about.

“I’ll borrow mom’s phone, you have yours, and if we see anything weird, we call for help.  But we’re gonna find out what’s going on.”  Mary smiled. “I’ll be an adventure!”

“Just as long as it’s not one of the Anime ‘everybody dies’ adventures…” Darcie said. “But yeah, I wanna know as well. I’m in.”


	33. Chatting With Toby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Toby gets his turn with the shrink.

“So, how are the patrols going?” 

Toby rubbed the back of his neck, before looking over at Wilhelm. “Pretty easy, I mean, nobody but some wild gnomes and a few goblins but that’s it. It’s weird. I mean, if Gunmar was out, why would he be giving Jim and Claire time?”

“Why indeed,” Wilhelm said. “But it must be a little odd, having a position of leadership.  Blinky mentioned that you were, ah, annoyed at some of Steve and Eli’s actions.”

“I’m not annoyed, I mean…” Toby frowned, staring at his coke. “It’s just that they don’t take it… Seriously. It’s like a game to them, I mean,”

“Well, they do get to be the heroes…”  Wilhelm’s voice was carefully casual. “That’s what everyone want—”

“It’s dumb!” Toby burst out. “People get killed! I mean, Arrrggghhh got killed, even if we fixed him and I’m just being useless and I can’t even keep the _secret_ while they’re gone! No wonder Jim and Clair lef—” His mouth clamped shut.

“Left you?” Wilhelm asked. “As I understand it, there was no _time_ to take you.”

“Yeah, but if they’d trusted me, maybe they would have been able to get me. Not that they were wrong. When we went to Gatto’s keep, Jim and Claire had what they needed. I brought tacos. _Tacos_.”

“Which ended up saving the day.”

“Not because I _planned_ it.” Toby stared at the floor. “I was just the fat tag-along. I would have died in a day in the Darklands. Look what it did to Claire and Jim.”

Wilhelm raised one eyebrow and then looked outside. “Maybe you would have. But while they were gone, you put together a team to ensure they had a home to return to. Yes, you didn’t keep the secret, but tell me, Toby, what would you have done if you _had?_ If Jim and Claire had appeared as they had, needing immediate medical attention, and you there with Blinky, Draal and Arrrggghhh and _none_  of you with the medical skill to assist them?”

“I wasn’t thinking, you know, about that when I started blubbering.”

“No. You weren’t. You were thinking that you didn’t know what to do, how to carry that unspeakable weight for one more second, and fortunately, instead of self-destruction, you shared that burden.”  Wilhelm sighed. “Toby, many of us who face death are lucky—we have training, we have time to prepare ourselves. My first case that involved death occurred after I’d gone though the academy, with partners and an entire structure behind me. You didn’t have that. And I’ll be honest, nobody would have blamed you if your first reaction to realizing that death was possible was for you to have headed right back up here and never poked your head in troll affairs again.  You didn’t.  And I don’t think Jim and Claire would mind me sharing the reason they left you behind.  They simply didn’t have time to get you. The gate was closing and you were too far away. But they also shared something else with me.”

“What?”

“The fact that you were home, _protecting_ their families, brought them no little bit of comfort. Jim…” Wilhelm shook his head. He’d asked for permission to share this, but even so, that had been a difficult session, when Jim had confessed how he’d come to believe that he was going to die, Claire was going to die, in those dark tombs.  “Jim told me that if he died, at least he knew that you would take care of Barbara.”

Toby opened his mouth, didn’t say anything. Swallowed, once, twice. Wilhelm pushed the tissues over to the teen, who grabbed them, wiped his eyes, blew his nose.

“And of course Barbara, Javier and Ophelia all said the same thing about their children.”

“What?”  Toby said. “But, like you’re here!”

“I’m here because I have the piece of paper. Because I have _decades_ more experience than you do. That’s a qualification that age will confer upon you, if you want to go into the shrink business.” Wilhelm leaned back and considered Toby. “But I _wasn’t_ the one who led their children back to them.  Barbara told me.” _Over the course of an hour because Barbara couldn’t get through the tale without bursting into tears._   “How they saw you, coming out of the dark, holding Jim and Claire’s hands in your own. Leading them, because they were too frightened, too _hurt_ to walk back on their own. Leading them back into the light, to their families. If you do nothing else in your life, you have already done far more than most people.”

“I—I didn’t have any choice, though.” Toby shook his head. “I had to, I mean, they were too scared, and freaked, and nobody else knew what do to, and if anyone else had tried they would have run away. I _had_ to. That’s all.”

“And you’ve just described the essence of heroism. You had to do it. And so you did it.”

“Don’t feel like it.”

Wilhelm chuckled and shook his head. “Well, that’s the other part of actual heroism.”  _And you’ve already learned the worst part of heroism—that it’s often counted in blood and pain._


	34. Returning to Normality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can only be tense for so long--but sooner or later, things start having to get back to normal.

Jim had to admit that Wilhelm had helped him—him and Claire both. He still had issues, but he was three weeks in, and not once had the armor come onto Jim’s body against his will. He, Claire and Toby had been allowed to head back down to the Heroes Forge to drill, Toby showing off his new armor.

It was blockier than Claire’s armor, with a thick shield that could fold out and actually be put on the ground, almost like a wall.

“He’s not fast, not like Lady Claire,” Gara said. “Even if he can’t stand and exchange blows with Gunmar, it lets him survive while he’s getting his own blows in.”

And Jim had to admit she was right. Toby was stronger than he had been, and liked to use the hammer to throw himself through the air, until he grounded and used it to smash some target. The shield could take blows from Arrrggghhh, which was a pretty good sign, given Arrrggghhh’s former position as Gunmar’s general.

Steve and Eli on the other hand…

 _I can see Toby’s point_. They acted like being the hero (at least in their own minds) somehow ensured they’d _win_.

It didn’t. For a second Jim wondered if he’d ever been that completely naive. On the other hand, there hadn’t been any major troll attacks since he and Claire had ventured into the Darklands. They’d run into goblins hunting cats and the odd feral gnome. Steve and Eli had never faced a changeling trying to kill them, or a Bular attack, never mind _Gunmar_.

Which didn’t keep Jim from watching Toby getting increasingly frazzled.

“But see, I don’t need to fight the trolls hand to hand!” Eli said. “I’ve been downloading plans to make UV flash bulbs!”

“Yeah! A sun grenade!”  Steve chimed in.

“And if there’s a friendly troll next to you?” Toby asked, leaning on his warhammer.

“Uh…”

“Me and Strickler used UV lights against Angor Rot,” Jim said, walking up by his friend. “They didn’t stop him immediately, and he took them out quickly. Eli, a flash might hurt them or disorient them, but it won’t…”

“Kill them, not quickly,” Blinky said. “Master Pepperjack, our vulnerability to the sun isn’t just due to its radiation. There is a magical component to it. Ultraviolet radiation will hurt us, but absent true sunlight, it would not immediately incapacitate a troll.”

“But it would make one _really angry._ ” Toby suddenly grinned. “Which means, you and Steve get to practice _running the obstacle course._ ”

“Oh, man,” Eli said.

“Hey, this’ll be easy, squirt!”

“Really, Master Palchuk?” Blinky smiled. “Draal, be a good fellow and make it more exciting for them.”

Eli sent a betrayed look at Steve as Draal smiled and nodded.

“Alright, fleshbags, all you have to do is _stay ahead of me._ I’ll give you a five count to start!”

“Good!” Eli and Steve took off.

“One…Five!” And Draal was off after them, a betrayed _hey!_ From Eli hanging in the air.

“They _really_ don’t get rule one, do they?” Claire asked, as she leaned up against Jim.

“Draal will help them with that. He did me.” Jim said.

“I dunno, Jimbo,” Toby said. “They know he isn’t trying to kill them. That sort of takes the impact away.”

“Yeah.” Jim frowned. Being afraid was _important_. Especially if you were a squishy human. 

“Hey.” Toby said. “Since we’re all armored up, want to…”

“Sure,” Jim said. He smiled. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a free for all.”

 

 

* * *

 

Barbara looked out from her position at the edge of the forge, along with Javier. They’d quickly realized that the forge was _special_ to the trolls, and so didn’t actively go into it, unless they were specifically invited.

Also, its tendency to spontaneously turn into a death trap was a good reason to not casually venture forth.

But now, Jim Claire and Toby were mock fighting, their laughter filling the chamber.

Laughter, but _focused_ laughter. They might be mock fighting, but they weren’t _playing_.

“Their skills are impressive.”

Barbara started, to look up at the Troll queen. Next to her, Vendel leaned on his staff.

“Yes.” Barbara nodded, watching as Jim skidded under a swing from Toby’s warhammer, even as Toby had to dodge as Claire dropped from the air over him. She missed, but vanished into another portal, before she _flew_ out of a portal to his side, her armored foot hitting his shield with a clang. “Her momentum. She can…”

“Yes. The Fair Claire has been experimenting with other tools,” Vendel said.

“Toys,” Usurna said. “They will not defeat Gunmar; an _army_ will defeat him.”

Barbara paused. That sounded like an ongoing debate. Vendel’s answer confirmed it.

“Maybe, Usurna. But an army? It needs generals and champions, does it not?”

“Mgh.”

“Aren’t we done yet?!” Eli shouted as he and Steve came running around an obstacle, Draal right behind them. Claire, Jim and Toby stopped their own fighting to watch the two new Trollhunters frantically trying to stay ahead of Draal.

“Still easy, Steve?” Jim called.

“I regret **_everything!”_**

* * *

 

The next day, at school, Steve and Eli were still limping.

“What happened to them?” Mary asked.

“Oh, they were practicing for a game,” Claire said, trying to keep a smirk off of her face. At the end of the day, Steve had tried to show his athleticism by challenging _Claire_ to a quick obstacle course. Granted, she _shouldn’t_ feel as satisfied as she did, given how inexperienced Steve was, but completely smoking him to the cheers of her boyfriend and Toby was… fun.

“Oh, well, I have something for you,” Mary said.

“What?” Claire asked.

“An invitation!” Mary told her. “Saturday’s the Junior beach trip, before everything gets freezing!” 

Claire frowned. The days were getting shorter, October moving inexorably forward, but the temperature had been unseasonably warm, so…

 _But I have things to do._ She was still pathetically behind on her school work, she had drills with Jim, they needed to talk to…

“I think that’s a great idea,” Toby said. “After all, what would it be like to not have you and Jim along with me and Darcie!”

“Right!” Mary said.

“And who are you going with?” Claire asked.

“I am still… Deciding.” Mary put her finger up to her lips. “People still have a few days to impress me.”

“Hey Claire, what’s up?” Jim asked, moving just a little faster as he saw her.

“Mary wants us to go on the school beach trip.” Claire could see Jim thinking the same things she was.

 _After all, there’s a lot of good reasons to stay here, what if Gunmar attacks_.  The little part of her that was honest admitted, she was _scared_ of going. But if Jim stayed, she had an excu—

“Okay.” Jim grinned. “We need to get permission from the parents, but okay.”

Claire blinked.

“Great!” Mary said. “See you there!”

Later, when they were going home, Claire looked over at Jim and frowned. “Jim, what if someone attacks!”

“They’ve had weeks and more,” Jim said. “And we can’t be everywhere at once, and Gunmar’s not stupid. Do you think he would attack without watching first?”

“No.” Claire involuntarily put her arms around her body. There were a lot of things that scared her about Gunmar, and the cold, calculating intelligence in his eyes was very close to the top of the list.

“So if he _was_ going to attack, it would have probably been right after we got back. He’s waiting, if he’s out, and I don’t think it’s for us to go to the beach.”

“Why…” Claire’s voice faded out as Jim looked at her.

“Because, Dr. Kruz said something. We need to take the time we have.” Jim put his hands on Claire’s shoulders, then pulled her into him. “If we don’t, we’ll spend the rest of our lives holding swords, waiting for an attack. Gunmar won’t _have_ to destroy us. We’ll have done it ourselves.”

“I…” Claire pulled back and looked up at Jim. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Claire smiled, running one hand through her stripe, the purple dye competing with the ever denser streaks of white hair. “Besides, I can show off my new two piece…”

“Okay, _now_ we _have_ to go,” Jim said.

“Yeah.” _He’s right. How long as it been since we’ve done something, you know, just for fun?_   Besides, Troll’s mostly stayed away from sand and deep water. “Yeah we do.”


	35. On the Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it's just great to relax.

The day of the beach trip dawned bright and early.

Very early. The plan was to actually take the bus out before dawn so they had the entire day. Jim smiled. He could already see the first light of dawn and the hint of a warm day.

“Good thing we live in California where it’s warm, right, Jimbo!” Toby said, marching up with what looked like several backpacks of gear. “Imagine doing this in North Dakota.”

“You do know we’re only going to be there for a day,” Jim said, staring down at Toby’s gear. “And I’m pretty certain North Dakota is landlocked.”

“I like to be prepared,” Toby said. “Snacks, extra suits in case of malfunctions, beach towels—”

“Girlfriend,” Darcie said as she came up to Toby and aware of her father’s gimlet eye, gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Ah, yeah, her too,” Toby said with a blush. “Where’s Claire?”

“Her mom wanted to talk to her by the car,” Jim said.

 

* * *

 

Behind the van, Claire frowned at her mother. “I’ve got everything,” she said.

“No, you don’t,” Ophelia said. “You don’t have this.” She held out a bag, her arms trembling.

Claire took it, and blinked at the weight. “Wait a minu—” She opened it, and inside saw the gleaming armor. “But—do you think.”

“No. But why did you leave it behind?”

“Well, you were worried…” Claire fell silent. Dr. Kruz had told her how frightened her parents were and so she’d decided that if she didn’t carry it to school, she could leave it home for the beach.

“Yes. And I took it out on you.  I don’t think anything is going to happen. But the fact of the matter is, that like it or not, and I _don’t_ like it, this is your world now. So… If you want to take it, if you feel you need your armor, you can take it, with my blessing.”

Claire stared at the armor. _Safety_.  But she hadn’t been that worried when she hadn’t been planning to take it. She had her staff and Jim and so was it safety… or a safety _blanket?_   She shook her head at that and put the bag back into the car. “No. I’d just get paranoid that someone was looking into it. If I need it…” She gestured at her other bag. “I’ve got the staff and nobody can use that.”

_In fact…_ Lately Claire had been able to call the staff to her, her control and power seeming to grow of its own accord. She shook her head. “It’s fine.”

“I—Have fun, than, Claire.” She glanced over at Jim. “But not too much fun. I don’t want to hear you gave the teachers a heart attack.”

“Don’t worry about _that_ ,” Claire said. _It won’t be me…_

 

* * *

 

The drive to the beach took about an hour and Claire and Jim found some time for snuggling—as did most of the other partnerships. Chaste snuggling, given Uhl and Coach’s observation. Mary was unhappily confessing the injustice she faced from her parents as she talked to Jim and Claire, Toby and Darcy listening from their side.

“Not only did they say I couldn’t bring a senior, they made me wear my one-piece when I had _this_ selected!” She displayed the garment and Jim blinked.

“Mary, isn’t that like… some dental floss and three bandaids?”

“It’s stylish!” She said, turning around and sitting in her seat in a huff.

“She does that all the time,” Claire whispered to Jim. “I’ve never seen her in anything but a one-piece and she keeps buying these, like super skimpy outfits that she never even tells her parents about. She must have a whole drawer full of them.”

“She must buy a lot,” Jim said. “Or it’s a really small drawer.”  He grinned. “What about you?”

“I have my two piece.”

Jim made a very happy sound and Claire poked him. “Don’t think it’s like what you just saw, buster, I want to have some fun _without_ worrying about things falling off.”

“That’s what surgical glue is for!” Mary’s voice drifted over her seat.

When they got to the beach, Claire and the other girls quickly went to the changing stations, the boys heading to their own.  Jim came out in his shorts and waited for Claire. Toby handed him a nouget nummy and they waited, until the girls appeared, Darcie jumping up and kissing Toby, even as Claire ran over to Jim. “So, volleyball first, or swimming?” she asked.

“Volleyball, then we can see who's best at boarding it,” Jim said with a grin. “Wanna be on the same side?”

“You got it, buster!”

Jim loved it. Claire was on his side, then by popular demand, she was on the other side, so the other team would have  a chance. They played Frisbee, swam, and as the day wore on, had lunch.  The sand was warm under his feet, Jim’s ears were full of laughter from his friends and the beach had other people on it, families and college kids enjoying the day.

Midway through the afternoon, Jim and Claire found themselves sitting under a big beach umbrella, watching Toby, Darcie, Mary, and several other students engaged in a game of… “Are they playing polo?”

“I think they’re playing dogpile anyone with the ball,” Claire said as she leaned into Jim, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Susan and Jake went behind the dunes.”

“And there goes Coach,” Jim said.

“Uh-huh.” Claire shook her head. “Bad hiding place.”

“Yep.” Jim snuggled a little more into Claire. It was nice just sitting here, feeling the warmth of the sun and his girlfriend. Toby erupted from the water, holding the ball and Jim grinned at the way the other junior looked surprised at how strong Toby was. He still looked chubby, but that was just an overlay on his muscles. Toby was probably stronger than Jim and it showed. Toby had his back, now and forever and Jim had wanted to cheer at the knowledge that his friend had a girlfriend of his own.

 

 

* * *

 

Toby went under for the fourth time, but he was buoyant. Jim and Claire were snuggling and happy.

_I wonder if they’re both oblivious?_ Claire wasn’t just getting looks from the other kids, but some of the college guys (and girls) were walking past more than once.  The same went for Jim.  They were no longer skinny, not like they had been when they’d come back, but their forms were fit, smoothly muscled and they moved like gymnasts. Fortunately, nobody tried anything.

Toby figured that Jim might be over going ultraprotective when people just got too close to Claire, but he didn’t think he’d ignore someone _hitting_ on Claire.  Fortunately, everyone was being cool, so Toby didn’t have to see if college students had a survival instinct.

And they were having fun. That made Toby’s day, as they smiled, and laughed, and joined in with the games over the day.

And then, as the sun started to set and fire pits bloomed with yellow-orange fires, he found himself sitting next to his girlfriend. Darcie.

_She doesn’t know anything, and yet she sticks with me. Toby._ God, he was lucky.

 

* * *

 

For a moment, Claire felt herself quiver. Some of the fires were the same color as the stones in the Darklands.

But then she looked up, at the stars blazing in the night sky, the ocean reflecting their light. She put her hand on the ground. Good ground, not desecrated. The stars, the same stars that had been here long  before _mankind_ had existed, that would be here for every generation to come.  She listened to the giggles and chats as kids toasted marsh mellows, laughing or just sitting in silence with their friends.

There were things in creation beyond any power of Gunmar’s to mar.

She relaxed, the comfy blanket keeping her and Jim warm.

“We’ll be going home home in a little while.” Claire looked around.

“Yeah.” Jim stared up at the sky. He paused, then leaned in and kissed Claire. Claire returned it, and they stayed that way, until they finally broke the kiss off.  “I’m glad we came here.”

“Yeah.” Claire leaned into Jim, closing her eyes, feeling him pressing into her. “So am I.” _I— **we** can stand again. _

“It’s why we fight,” Jim murmured sleepily. “This. Screw the glory.”

She patted his hand. “You got that right, Trollhunter.”

Jim didn’t say anything else, the two just laying on the beach in companionable silence, until Coach called them back to the buses.

 


	36. Homework and Trolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, to quote a certain movie character... And Here We go!
> 
> The Kids have been put through hell--but here's the start of the payoff!

_I Suppose I’m getting better,_ Jim thought. He was really getting tired of not being out in the field, but on the other hand, Blinky and the others were right. They hadn’t _seen_ anything. Cat eating goblins really didn’t need the Trollhunter.

_Maybe Gunmar really didn’t escape._ Jim shook his head. No, he didn’t think he’d be that lucky.

“Jim, here’s your problem,” Claire murmured. “X is off.”

Jim bent over and frowned at the equation.  Math hadn’t exactly been his forte, and that had been _before_ six months in the Darklands and two months trying to avoid going nuts. Ditto for English, Ditto for everything, although Principal Uhl had decided to hold off some classes for summer school. Jim didn’t think they could have pushed through otherwise, since they were both having to complete their sophomore year and keep up with their junior year.

But Jim really wanted to graduate with his friends.

“It’s…” He frowned and focused on the rest of the equation. _Where did I…_ “Five, not three.”

“Right,” Claire said. “And I think we’re finished with the chapter.”

“Finally!” Jim said. “Can we just get credit for beating up trolls?”

“How about a kiss?” Claire asked and leaned into Jim as their lips met. Her lips were warm against his, and Jim put his arms around the petite girl as they kissed.

It was odd. Jim and Claire had kissed in the Darklands, desperate, quick moments. Out here they’d slept together, clinging together, lest the nightmares come.

But there was something different about kissing in a warm living room, in front of a little fire, their homework scattered around them. Not desperate. Not needy.

Just wonderful. Sometimes Jim wondered—no, not yet. He wouldn’t even _ask_ that yet. Beyond the fact he’d probably turn red, faint and make an idiot of himself, that was up to Claire.

 

* * *

 

“You think there’s a hive in here, Trollhunter?”  Draal asked.

“Yeah,” Toby said, looking at Arrrggghhh and Draal. Steve and Eli were there to, but Toby really didn’t think they were ready to go off with just him for backup and he had a feeling that this was a _big_ nest. The area hadn’t just seen stray cats go missing, but a few dogs and Ophelia had let him know that animal control had found several half-eaten deer and coyote carcasses.

_Which means that they’re hungry or numerous enough to bring down a much bigger animal. So_ not _Awesome-sauce._ Goblins tended to be scavengers at best, but the bigger a hive got, the _smarter_ it got. The good news was that from what Blinky had said, the biggest hives never got much smarter than a chimp, so Toby’s ugly worries about killing a troll—a _person_ , weren’t rising up here. Even better, anything short of complete extermination left the hive intact and able to regrow, hopefully with a better idea of “this isn’t yours”.” 

But for now, this was probably going to be the most dangerous mission Steve and Eli had been involved in, hence Draal and Arrrggghhh. Fortunately, it was _late_ at night, no buildings on the street had cleaners or security guards, and they’d pulled some traffic cones out  to block the street.

“Okay!” Toby said. “What’s the plan?”  _Please have listened, Steve…_ Toby had come to the conclusion that God himself must have been protecting him when he was busy _not listening_ to Blinky, trusting Jim or Claire to handle things.

“Go in and check for goblin sign!” Steve said.

“And put the warding signs on the doors,” Eli added, holding up the several cardboard signs, the gleaming troll sigils on them.

“Why?”

“So that the goblins don’t go into the streets.”

“Right, remember, when you kill one, the rest will go for you.” Toby frowned. “So back off and let me, Arrrggghhh and Draal handle it.”

“I can—”

Steve fell silent as Toby tapped his armor, then reached out and tapped Draal’s stony skin.

“I’ll run back to you guys,” Steve said.

“Good. Let’s go.”

Toby pushed  the door open revealing the dark warehouse beyond.  _Stealing keys gets a lot easier with the adults in the know._

“Keep your flashlights on,” Toby said. Gara’s enchanted jewel made the interior look like it was bathed in bright moonlight, but the other two humans weren’t so lucky. Eli and Steve had tried to get a hold of NVG systems, but even the best night vision goggles fell short of what Gara could do, and after the third time Draal had blindsided the two in a drill, everyone had agreed just going with flashlights would be best, at least until they could get their hands on the _really_ good stuff.

“Smell that?”  Steve said. “That’s _disgusting…_ ”

Arrrggghhh sniffed. “Food.”

“Yeah,” Toby said, and flipped the light switch next to the door. There weren’t any windows facing the street and so they could use it without fear of detection.

Until the damned goblins turned off the lights. But right now, there were none in sight. Just huge mountains of boxes, stacked almost to the ceiling.

And a maggot-ridden, dismembered deer carcass in front.

“That’s weird,” Toby muttered. _Wouldn’t a worker have noticed it?_

* * *

 

_“What were those things?”_ Mary hissed. “Why was your boyfriend wearing armor! Why are Steve and Eli there, and _what were those things!”_   The Asian was pale as she and Darcie watched the group enter the building. 

“I don’t know! Obviously, my boyfriend doesn’t tell me everything!” Darcie said. _Should I call dad?_ No. She wasn’t going to get Toby into trouble until she knew he was doing something wrong. Besides, they had the key, so maybe they were allowed in there. At least the trick with her phone and Steve’s backpack had worked.

“Well, let’s get to the car and go back home,” Mary said. “You can ask him tomorrow!”

“No… I wanna get a closer look.” Darcie said. “Let’s go around the side. They have some windows there and we can see what they’re doing. If it’s just cosplaying…”

“Mom and Dad are going to _seriously_ ground me for this if I don’t get back soon,” Mary grumped. But she followed Darcie as the two crossed the street from the alley where they’d been hiding. Darcie moved down the side of the building, the narrow access way choked with garbage the few windows covered in grime. 

“Look!” Mary said, pointing up to a window that was next to the fire-escape ladder. “One’s open!”

Darcie nodded. “And it’s big enough for us to get in.” She climbed up and moved the glass aside, wondering why  it, alone of all the windows, felt like it had just been oiled, and were those… claw marks?”

_Maybe I shouldn’t…_ Darcie shook her head. She could get in, check and then leave. Mary behind her, she went though the window, ending up on a second floor walkway that surrounded the open area of the warehouse, a few second level offices dark and neglected.

Below them, they could hear, but not see, the others.  A powerful, resonating voice rumbled though the chamber. “Trollhunter, they must have abandoned this lair. Why else would they leave food behind?”

“They’ve been eating a lot, and don’t goblins like their food pretty maggoty?  If they’ve got enough food, why not let it, um, ferment?”

_Goblins? Maggoty? That was Eli’s voice?_

“Hey, Buttsnacks! Look at this!”

Steve. Of course.

“What is—fireworks?”  Toby sounded confused. “But these are skyrockets! They’re not legal.”

“There must be enough here to give the entire city a show!” Steve said.

“Or blow it up,” Eli said. “Look! These aren’t just normal fireworks-this is  mortar bomb, you know for the _big_ shows.”

“Darcie…” Mary whispered, her voice trembling.

“I’m trying to list—”

“There’s something up here with us…”

Darcie looked up, to where Mary was staring at the window they’d come in through.

The window that now had bone-white _things_ coming through it, as more came out of the obviously not-abandoned offices.

“ _Waka-Chaka…” o_ ne hissed, staring at them with his malicious yellow eyes.

Mary and Darcie’s twin screams filled the building.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On NVG's, it's important to note that generally Hollywood plays them up as being much better than they are. For example, a man's normal field of view is 190 degrees, with many NVGs cutting it down to 40 degrees or even less, and that doesn't take into account that Steve and Eli, even with the parent's help, aren't going to be rocking the kind of Kit front line US soldiers would have. So, they make do with flashlights and such, rather than risking getting blindsided.


	37. Returning to Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've put our characters through hell, and that's okay, so long as there is a payoff. Here's where the payoff starts.

Darcie liked horror movies.

_Watching them_. Not being in them. Mary was being pulled away from her, the hands of the monsters grabbing her by the jeans, pulling her back. Mary screamed, and frantically undid her jeans as Darcie grabbed and _pulled_. 

Now Mary was free, but there were more, not just on the walkway, but on the walls and even roof, their spidery limbs gripping the surface while their horrible, leering faces looked down at the two terrified girls.

Darcie kept pulling Mary back, but she wasn’t going to get free, they were going to—

And then a bronze armored thunderbolt struck some of the monsters, green goo splattering all over Mary and Darcie, and landed on the walkway, holding a flaming hammer.

“Darcie! What are _you_ doing here!” Toby asked as he looked back.

“I—”

“Never mind, Steve and Eli are coming up, go with them. Draal and Arrrggghhh will help you!”

Then he turned around, his hammer smashing monster after monster into goo. Darcie managed to pull Mary to her feet the crying girl stumbling as they ran for the iron stairway to the first level. Coming up it were two figures holding steel bats.

Steve and Eli.

“What are you doing—”

“Never mind!” Darcie said. “Toby—”

“He can handle it!” Steve told her. “Get down the stairs before we get swarmed by these goblins!” He took a swing at one leaping goblin, splattering it.

“These are blood Goblins, Steve!” Eli said. “They’re from the—”

“I know!” Steve shouted as he pulled Mary and Darcie behind him. “Down, go, go, go!”

Darcie helped Mary, who was finally getting more with it, and then the two girls stopped and squeaked in horror as they saw the monsters below. One mossy, one all stone and crystals.

“Hurry up, fleshbags!” the smaller one said, smashing a goblin with its hands.

“Hello, Toby’s Girlfriend!” the other one said, and Darci blinked. Toby had been talking about her with…

_Who cares, they’re friendly._ As she ran down, she reached into her pocket, finally remembering to press the panic button Dad insisted she have.

Because they _really_ needed the police here, right now.

But then she was grabbed, her shriek joining Mary’s as they were deposited onto the back of the mossy… monster? Rescuer?

“Hang on,” it told them.

“Trollhunter!” the other one bellowed. “There are too many, and these are blood goblins! We have to retreat!”

“I know,” Toby shouted. He was backing up the walkway, killing every goblin that came near him, Eli and Steve covering his rear, but there were so many of the little monsters… “I’ve called for backup!”

“But—”

“No choice!” Toby cut the protest off. “Draal, we can’t let this many goblins loose into the community, they run wild, it won’t just be animals they—HOLY!”

Something erupted from the rear of the building, boxes of fireworks going everywhere. They were huge, armored, with hellish green eyes glowing from their slits.

“Gumm-gumms?” Steve asked. “I thought they—”

“Well, they’re here now!” Eli said.

“Everyone out!” Toby shouted. “It’s a trap!”

But the companion to the creature holding Darcie and Mary didn’t run—it _rolled_ forward, smashing one of the monsters to the side, before another one charged up and attacked it, a flurry of blows filling the warehouse with clamor. Steve and Eli got off the walkway, and Toby _dove_ from it, causing Darcie to squeak in horror, but somehow his warhammer seemed to pull him, until he raised it up, feet still in midair, and brought it down upon the crown of one of the big monsters. There was a boom, flash and then fragments of a now-stone body were flying all over the warehouse.

“Guys! Fire!” Steve shouted. Everyone looked to see a goblin  _throw_ what looked like a glowing stone into the back of the warehouse.

Darcie blinked. _Oh God. It’s full of fireworks. Why did it do that? Does it want to blow us all up!_

But then there were more goblins, more of those big critters and suddenly their protector was hit by two.

_“Arrrggghhh!”_ Toby yelled. “Mary, Darcie, run for the door! Hurry!”

Darcie tried, but this time _she_ was grabbed by goblins, pulled towards one of the big critters, this one holding a sword over head. Mary was sobbing, trying to pull Darcie away, but there were just too many, and everyone on their side was fighting so that they couldn’t come and save them and when had she last told Daddy she love—

And suddenly a _hole_ opened up in the air, and a spray of throwing spikes came through it, impaling the goblins holding Mary and Darcie. They scrambled back as two armored figures appeared, one in dark purplish armor, holding a staff in one hand, and the other…

Shining, silver armor and a sword that blazed like it had been forged from daylight. He dove under the monsters awkward swing and came up with a savage blow that split it in half, flesh turning to stone. Then he was rising and looking back at Darcie and she _recognized_ that armor. From the play.

The armor _Jim_ had wor—was wearing. Beside him Claire, wearing an armor that Darcie had never seen before, finished slicing  a goblin in half.

Darcie had one thought as she and Mary ran back, the monsters now completely focused on the two new arrivals.

Jim and Claire hadn’t been taken to any fight club in LA.

Then Toby landed by them, and the three formed up like they'd been doing this forever.

"Stay behind us," Jim ordered, and how had his voice gotten like that? He didn't just sound unafraid, he made _Darcie_ feel less afraid.

But then the monsters charged them, and Jim and his allies went to meet them.

 


	38. Battles and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Battle is rejoined, while some people learn a little more than they expected...

Mary huddled behind Darci and watched, eyes wide, as Jim and Claire and Toby… _destroyed_ anything that came close to them. Claire was bouncing from some strange type of portal to another, never in the right place to be hit, always in the right place to deliver slashing blows, while Jim, using his sword and shield, killed one, two, three of the behemoths that were charging them. Toby slammed his shield onto the ground, taking a blow so strong that the _concrete_ cracked under his feet, before he brought his own weapon around in a flaming arc that pulverized his enemy.

But there were more, and now fire crackers and rockets were going off.

“Arrggghhh, Draal, Eli, Steve, get them out of here!” Jim shouted. “We’ll handle the rest!”

“Just run, man!” Steve said.

“No talking, _go!_ ” Jim snapped and at his words, even _Mary’s_ legs were moving. As she ran she heard Claire, shouting, even as she pulled her sword from the eyeslit of a now stone enemy.

“Jim, if this whole building is full of fireworks…”

“I know!”

 

* * *

 

Detective Scott took the corner, the squeal of tires loud in his ears. Darci had laughed at his insistence for the panic button app, since nothing ever happened in Arcadia.  Then she’d triggered it while he and Jack had been talking and now he and his friend were zooming towards where the GPS system said she was, give or take twenty feet.

And she hadn’t responded. Not to calls, not to texts.

“Go, go, go!” Scott chanted. Next to him, Jack finished loading his tactical shotgun. Scott had laughed at Jack’s decision to not go with the standard issue, instead of paying for his own weapon, but if it helped Darci…

“There!” Ahead of them was one of the warehouses that were so common in this part of the town, only this time with smoke starting to pour from the roof. Next, there were several small explosions and a… skyrocket launched itself through a skylight.

_If Darci was at a party I’m going…_ “This is Detective Scott!  We have a major structure fire, possible illegal fireworks!” The dispatch officer responded and moments later, Scott gave the address. But when he was screeching to a halt, Jack getting out before the car was even stopped, shotgun in his hands…

And then the door _exploded_ in front of them and… _things_ came out. One was all crystals and stone, while the other, larger, looked like it was covered with moss, their bodies hunched over. In front of them, Darci, Mary and two other kids from the school were running.

“DARCI! GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Scott had never cleared leather so fast in his career, his pistol out and aimed at the behemoths, even as Jack raised up his own shotgun, but the _kids were in the way_.

“No! Da—Daddy! They’re friends!” Darci screamed. “But there are oth—”

And then, three other creatures came roaring out of one of the alleys, slamming into the two behemoths that were with his kids…and the other one going straight for the kids. A swarm of smaller monsters clustered around its feet.

“DOWN! NOW!” Scott shouted, and _now_ the kids were down and out of the line of fire, and the sound of his pistol and Jack’s shotgun was loud in his ears as he started firing.

 

* * *

 

Inside, the fire was spreading, quickly. Jim looked around, his armor stained with goblin slime.

“We’ve gotta go, Jimbo!” Toby said. “If this is all fireworks, it’s gonna…”

“Take out this entire end of town,” Claire said. She held her staff, shadow flickering around it. “I can handle it, you two go.”

“No.” Jim shook his head. “We stay.”

“Jim, I—”

“You need to focus on what you’re doing!” Jim told Claire. “You can’t worry about any goblins or trolls. Toby and I will guard you.” He grinned. “We trust you.”

“Okay,” Claire said. She _reached_ out with her power.  She’d become better, much better with the staff during those months in the Darklands, but this…  She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth. Found a place with resonance… And opened the portal.

 

_Far away, at a beach where Jim and Claire had enjoyed a day, a whirlpool started to form just off the coast. If anyone had been there, it would have been amazing, but the beach was deserted._

“Ah!” Claire gasped. “This is…” She gritted her teeth. Her eyes felt strange, and she caught a glimpse of them in Jim’s armor, her eyes now pure black, flickering tendrils of shadow working over her face…

But from the portal came a spray of sea water, sea water from deep under the surface, spraying across the burning boxes, as powerful as a dozen fire hoses. Claire gasped in pain, keeping the spray going as the fire was snuffed out, steam and smoke rising up into the air.

Claire fell to her knees as Toby grabbed her, Jim staring into the smoky interior. The portal flickered out.

“I think—”

And then they heard the sound of gunshots from outside.

“None of us have guns,” Toby said.

“Fuck.” Jim was moving. “Toby, get Claire out of here!”

 

* * *

 

Outside, Mike Scott was wondering when he’d wandered into a monster movie. The two ‘friendlies’ were engaged with their own enemies, and the monster they were fighting was still advancing towards the kids who were running, scrambling away as fast as they could, the big kid (Steve?) pulling Darci and Mary by the arms as the little kid threw what looked like smoke bombs at the big critter.

A big critter who _was not_ going down.  Scott had put a full magazine of 9mm into its center of mass, and just about any _human_ would have called it quits by then. Not this thing.

Jack had his own problems, the boom of his shotgun coming with the squeals of the smaller monsters and keeping the faster monsters from overrunning them or catching the kids.  Then the last one was down and Jack was aiming at the big critter.

“Switching to solid!” he shouted and Mike would never, ever mock him for paying money for a shotgun with a dual magazine. But even _that_ didn’t stop it. It staggered back, roared, holes and dents in its armor, raised its sword  and started to charge them…

“HOLD YOUR FIRE!” The voice was human, loud and suddenly a figure in silver armor came down _behind_ the monster and a sword cleaved through armor and skin that had held up to _bullets and shotgun slugs_. The monster crumbled, skin turning to stone, its helm falling to the ground  with a clang in front of Mike and Jack.

_What the hell…_   That was _Jim Lake!_

Moments later, Darci’s _boyfriend_ came out of the building, supporting Councilwoman Nunez’s daughter.

“I’m okay, Toby, I just put…” She fell onto her hands and knees and noisily vomited up her dinner.

“You okay, Claire?” Jim asked, kneeling next to her.

“Yah.” Claire shook her head. “Just a lot of effort. I’d really like to wash my mouth out.”

There were a dozen things Mike should have said, starting with what the hell was going on, and who the two friendlies were. But for now, he was just too shocked to do anything other than move to Darci. She was clinging to Mary, both girls sobbing in reaction to whatever had happened in there.

Jack calmly reloaded his shotgun, then looked at the various kids, critters and remains of critters on the street, then looked back to Jim.

“So. Not a fight club in LA,” he said.

“It’s complex,” Jim replied.

“Uh-huh,” Jack reached into the unit and tossed a bottle of water to Jim. He handed it to Claire, helping her take her helmet off as she washed her mouth out and spat onto the ground. “Well, I think now’s a good time to talk about it, don’t you?”

 


	39. Chapter 39

Jim looked up at the two police officers. Detective Scott was with Mary and Darci, the two girls huddling into him. 

_Why were they following Toby around?_ Jim shook his head. At least they hadn’t been hurt… Scared, yeah.

“We’d better get Darci and Mary to Mom,” he finally said. “Goblins aren’t venomous, but their scratches are really septic.”

“Jimbo, those were gumm-gumm soldiers. And _blood_ goblins…”

“I know,” Jim said. _Bad news. The worst._

“And that means…” the one cop with the shotgun asked in that same casual voice.

“This was a trap,” Claire answered. “We haven’t been out and patrolling, and Toby normally doesn’t have Arrrggghhh and Draal along with him. If it had just been Toby, Eli and Steve…”

“Three kids who played in a warehouse full of fireworks and got killed as a result,” the cop said. “I really think we need to hear the whole story, because dumb brutes don’t plan a hit like that.”

“Yeah.” Jim looked up as he heard the approaching sirens of the fire department. “But we need to go, now. I’ll explain _everything_ at my house, but this has to stay secret. _Please_.”   The armor faded from him and Jim pulled out his phone, and sent a quick text to Mom.

“Mom can be here in a few minutes. She’ll take us home and you can meet us after you talk to the firefighters—”

“Jim. Statues?” Claire asked.

“Oh—” _Great. Yeah, that’s going to get some comment._ Suddenly everyone jumped as Draal and Arrrggghhh walked over and quickly reduced the corpses to piles of gravel.

_And they were probably just ordinary trolls, taken by the Decimar Blade_. Jim bit his lip at the image of any of his friends reduced to that.

“Boss,” the shotgun wielder said. “I’ll go with the kids.”

“I’ll go with Arrrggghhh and Draal,” Toby said. “We can meet you back at home.”

“Yeah,” Jim said.

“You go _right home_ with Jim,” Detective Scott was telling Mary and Darci. “I’ll follow. If anything happens, do what Jack tells you to do.”

_Great. First mission out after the Darklands and we blow up the secret bigger than anything. I’m so getting arrested and expelled._

Getting around the corner didn’t take too long, especially with Detective Scott flagging down the firefighters.  They were walking two blocks to where Mom would pick them all up and Jim really hated the way the dark buildings looked. _What if they have more…_

“Jim—Claire!” Darci had her arms around Mary, “What were—”

“Not _here_ ,” The cop said. Like Jim and Claire, his eyes were flicking up and down the closed storefronts, shotgun at the ready.  The lights from downtown didn’t seem comforting now, just letting Jim know how isolated they were.  Eli and Steve had their bats at the handy, but that wouldn’t help them against full-on _trolls_ on this lonely street.

_Would you have wanted this to happen downtown, around a bunch of kids?_

And there were the lights of Mom’s van. Good. They were getting home.

And maybe Jim would figure out what to say by the time they _got_ home.

 

* * *

 

When Jack got into the front passenger seat, he lowered the window, readied his shotgun, and didn’t relax. The critters they’d seen could crumple the car like a beer can, and God only knew if there were more of them around.

_Never thought I’d do the Baghdad patrol thing in **Arcadia**_ **.**

And the kids weren’t relaxing either.  Darci and Mary were in between Jim and Claire, and they had their eyes on their respective sides of the van.

“Mom, home, hurry.”

Barbara didn’t say a thing, just pulled out.

_She knows. She knows everything._

Once they were away from the immediate area, Claire relaxed fractionally. “Mary, you weren’t bitten, were you?”

“No—” Mary took a shuddering breath. “Just scratched.”

“When we get home, you’re taking a shower and I’m cleaning those scratches,” Dr. Lake said. “Darci?”

“I’m…I’m fine. What _were_ those things!”

Without taking her eyes off of her side of the street, Claire answered, “Gumm-gumm soldiers. Trolls. Draal and Arrrggghhh are friendly.”

“And you—That magic, and Jim’s armor and Toby’s…”  Darci’s voice was starting to scale up.

“We should talk about this at home,” Dr. Lake said.

“Yeah,” Jack gestured at everyone. “Your dad is gonna want to hear this, Darci, so we don’t need to go over it twice.”

And then they were turning down the road that Dr. Lake lived on. Jack looked around. Nice little road, nice little houses, toys in driveways.

And it felt as threatening to him as any of the neighborhoods he’d patrolled in. As the car came to a halt and Toby and his monstrous companions appeared out of the gloom, Jack got out of the car and frowned as the door to Barbara’s house opened, to reveal Ophelia and Javier Nunez and a… four armed _thing._

_Shit. Normal towns just have corruption and drive by shootings. I wonder if it’s too late to go to work for the Chicago PD._


	40. Talking to the Cops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now the Cops get to have a quick run down on why their City is number one in unsolved sock thefts...

Evidently Barbara Lake wasn’t one for small talk when there were injuries. “Mary, come with me.”  Mary followed her into the bathroom, while the others sat down. Jack looked at the four-armed critter.

“Jack Williams,” he said.

“Blinkous Galadrigal, but you can just call me Mr. Blinky.”

“Sure.” _Hey, if the six-eyed, four armed critter wants me to call it Mr. Blinky, I’m fine with that._

“What happened?” Javier said.

“Trap.” Jim looked a lot more like some of Jack’s acquaintances from JSOC after a botched mission than he did a 16 year old kid. “With gumm gumms.  Gunmar’s back, that’s for certain.”

“And if we hadn’t gone…” Claire had pulled her helmet off, shaking her hair out and repinning a stray lock that had escaped her barats. “Toby, Steve and Eli would be dead.”

“And me,” Darci said in a small voice.

“And you.” Now Jim looked angry. “What were you _doing!_ ”

“Hey! It’s not my fault my boyfriend isn’t telling me what is going on—”

Toby weighed in. “I didn’t tell you because you might get hurt!”

“Well Mary already—” A whistle cut through the conversation, as everyone looked over at Javier.

Next to him, Ophelia was giving everyone disappointed Mom look #4. “Toby, Darci didn’t know. Darci, what would your father have said about you sneaking around abandoned warehouse, even if there weren’t any trolls?”  The kids subsided, Darci paling, probably because she realized that Dad was incoming.

_Well, thank god. They still have some of what it means to be a teenager._ Jack tried to relax, but he was having to ruthlessly suppress memories of a pair of terrified eyes, before a small form triggered her explosive vest next to his patrol. But there was a difference. These kids hadn’t been terrified into the fight. They had chosen it, or at least come to terms with it. 

And wasn’t that a fucking shame. Kids shouldn’t _have_ to “come to terms” with stuff like this.

_And maybe pigs will fly, Jack._

“Mary’s okay,” Barbara said as she came down with Mary. “I stole one of your spare skirts, Claire.”

“That’s fine.”  Behind her, Jack caught Mary mouthing something to Darci.  What was…

Ah. “Jim and Claire’s clothes are in the same closet.”

_Obviously, that’s more important than rampaging trolls_. 

Finally, there was another knock at the door, and when Barbara opened it, Detective Scott stood there. A very unhappy Detective Scott.

 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t be calling the Governor to turn out the National Guard. Tell me why _you!”_ His finger took in all the adults. “Have been letting your children put their lives at risk.” Finally, he pointed at Mr. Blinky and the other trolls. “And finally, w _hat the hell are they!?”_

“I will be happy to explain,” Blinky said. “But it is not what, but who, and I think you should be sitting down for this discussion.”

* * *

 

 It didn’t take long for Mike Scott to wonder if maybe someone had spiked his tea. “An entire civilization.”  He shook his head. “Of cre—”

“People,” Claire snapped.

“People, who turn to stone if they’re exposed in daylight, and right now there’s a troll Hitler lose, who wants to go back to the bad old days of eating people.”

“That is…” Blinky tilted his head. “Accurate.”

“Fine.” Jack leaned forward and he had his angry face on. “Great. So, Troll bad guy. Why have _you”—_ his finger jabbed at the parents”—decided that the smart thing to do was to turn your kids loose in the middle of a _war_ instead of calling us.”

“It isn’t—”  Jack overrode Ophelia’s words.

“The First MEF is based at Camp Pendleton.  That’s around 20,000 combat troops with everything from Abrams to F-35s.”  Jack glared at Ophelia. “They aren’t bullet proof. I was hurting them, so a platoon of Marines with rifles, Javelins and Carl Gustafs could eat their lunch before they even get close with those spears.”

“You’d win the battle but lose the war.” 

Jack turned and looked at Jim and Claire. They were sitting, holding hands, Claire looking odd in her armor. But Jim was staring at Jack and he had that intensity that was so out of place on a kid’s face.

“What do you mean?”  Mike asked.

“Detective Scott…” Jim frowned. “Okay, Blinky told you some stuff about trolls, but you gotta understand, they don’t have _nations_ , not like us. There are about…”

“Vendel thinks there may be as many as a couple of hundred million, worldwide,” Claire supplied.

“Yeah, thanks.”  Jim paused then continued. “But they really see things… more individually. I think it comes from how old they can get. If someone attacks a troll village, it’s between them and the village. If you involve yourself, you’re part of the fight but if not…” He shrugged. “That’s why Gunmar scares them so much. He _does_ have an army, even if it’s mostly mind controlled trolls.”

“ _Mind control?_ ” Jack asked. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Nope.” Jim didn’t smile. “It’s sort of like… Um, remember that old TV show with the robot people?”

“The borg?”

“Yeah. Gunmar has a sword, and he can strip away your will, turn you into his slave…” Jack bit his lip. “As far as anybody knows, there’s no coming back from that.”

“Christ.” Jack shook his head.

“But the thing is,” Jim continued. “If the _United States_ attacks, then lots of trolls who might not get involved will think that they have to—that it’s the bad old days of a full-on war between humans and trolls. As long as it just sticks to Arcadia, _if_ we beat Gunmar they’ll see it like a troll village fighting back.”

“Bad for the trolls, but…” Jack made a gesture at his shotgun. “We have the Maxim gun and they do not.”

“And _they_ have time-stopping magic, and we do not,” Claire said. “Blinky had the  Kairosect, and it could stop time for everyone but the user for 43 minutes and nine seconds.”  She gestured at the four-armed troll. “Ours doesn’t work any more, but there may be others—so what could a troll with a spear do if everyone else was frozen in time?”

“And they have the gyre,” Toby said from where he, Draal and Arrrggghhh were standing. “It got us from here to the tip of Argentina in about an hour.”

“That’s…” Mike shook his head, at a loss for words.

“Faster than any of your aircraft, yes,” Blinky said. “Our ways of doing things are not like yours, officer, but we are not savages and a full-scale conflict would mean…”

“That everyone loses,” Jim said, his voice intense. _“Everyone._ Trolls, humans, nobody would win, because once a full-scale war gets started it would _never end_.  But Gunmar needs _us_ to respond, for that to happen.”

“And if he just starts slaughtering people in Time Square?”  Jack asked. “President ain’t gonna say: ‘oh, we can’t have a war’ if that happens.”

“That’s _easy_ ,” Jim said, and suddenly there was something feral about his expression, a look that had Darci and Mary pushing themselves back into the couch. “You see, before I went to the Darklands I killed his son. And Gunmar’s a _warlord who publicly swore vengeance on me_.” Then he sighed and suddenly looked 16 again. “Which means that he’s sort of going to kick off his great war by killing me in person.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the hardest parts of any YA fiction with a big threat is to explain--why don't they just call the army? It's especially difficult in Trollhunters, because most of the trolls aren't immune to physical danger-- we see them getting hurt by physical, non-magical force, and thus, well, even an M2 HMG should be able to kill them in job lots. 
> 
> I hope that my reasoning is capable of keeping everyone's SOD intact.


	41. Making Preparations

“Fine. Then why did the trolls choose you?” Detective Scott asked.

Jim shook his head. _If only_. “The amulet is the one that makes the choice, and it chose me—and the only way to give it up is to die.” He shrugged. “It was fun, at first, scary, but…”

“Then Angor Rot attacked Trollmarket and the Janus order got involved.” Toby glared at the memory.

“The what?” Jack asked.

Suddenly, Blinky started and dug into his pocket, pulling out a gaggletack. “Could you both touch this for a moment?”

“Why?” Detective Scott sounded suspicious.

“To see if you’re part of the Janus order, which is a cult of shapechanging trolls that have been infiltrating humanity. I should have done this first, but the day has been rather busy.”

“Shapechanging trolls.” Scott shook his head as he touched the device. “Why not. Any I know?”

“Principal Strickler?” Jim grinned at their expression. “Yeah, It surprised me as well. He’s on our side now.”

“That’s another reason not to tell everyone,” Ophelia said. “Even Strickler didn’t know everyone in the order so we could be…”

“Yeah, I can see how that would play out.” Jack frowned. “But they’re not doing everything because Gunmar wants you dead personally.”

“Maybe, but he may have some other plans,” Jim replied.

“But why didn’t you come back for those six months?” Mary said. “Why couldn’t you escape?”

“The Darklands are actually a pocket reality. It took us some time to organize a rescue mission,” Blinky said. “Master Jim and Fair Claire did not _ask_ us when they ventured into the Darklands to save Enrique.”

“Save—”

Darci squeaked as Not Enrique popped up on the couch next to Claire. “Yeah. Big Sis couldn’t wait to get the squirt back so she and Jimmy-boy decided to pull a rescue on their own. Hi, I’m one of those changeling critters.”

Jack and Detective Scott were evidently beyond surprise at this point as they just waved to the small changeling.

“We were sort of dumb,” Jim said. Claire nodded, running one finger through her white stripe. _It’s really gotten brighter_ , Jim thought, he could have sworn that there had been some darker strands in it only that morning. “Maybe if I had known…” _I could have kept Claire out of this, kept Toby out of it._ “But we always won and then it was too late…”

“Why’d you recruit the other two?” Jack asked.

“Hey, we’re the Creep—” Steve fell silent at Jack’s look.

“I hadn’t told the adults yet, just the trolls, so Steve And Eli helped me,” Toby said. “I figured that you know, Jack and Claire would be back soon, so I just had to keep things going for another week and—” he sniffed. “Yeah, it…” Sniffed again.

Darci got up from the couch and sat next to her boyfriend.

Toby took another breath. “It was a really bad time.”

“Well, now _we_ can help,” Mary said. “I think I’d look good—”

“No!”

Detective Scott looked surprised, staring at Claire who had burst out with the exact same word he’d said.

“But Claire, we know—why, I mean, Steve—”

“Toby didn’t have any _choice_ ,” Claire said. “And it was just some normal goblins and rogue gnomes. But this isn’t that, Mary, this is—”

“You think we’re too scared to help you?” Darci sounded angry.

“I—” Claire closed her eyes. “ _No_. But these aren’t _cartoon_ monsters. They won’t tie you up and forget about you while you escape. They’re _monsters_. Gunmar… When I was…”

“Hey,” Jim said, putting his arm around Claire. “You don’t…”

“I do.” Claire said. “They need to _understand_. The fight in the gym, do you know why?”

“You had…” Darci frowned. “A flashback?”

“Yeah…” Claire didn’t notice the adults leaning forward, concern on their faces as her voice turned thready. Jim gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “Gunmar… He beat me, a lot. Sometimes I couldn’t see because my face was swollen. Once or twice I think they used… something to fix me because I was _certain_ he’d busted my cheekbone, but Doctor Lake couldn’t—” She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m random…” She took a deep breath. “But I think, towards the end, that he was afraid he might accidentally kill me. I sort of pissed him off. We both did, because we never gave in. So he’d make me fight, and I was so _tired_ and hurt, and it always ended up with his foot on my head, pushing me into a puddle of water so I couldn’t breathe. He made Jim watch, and he always told me that…” Her breaths were coming faster now. “This might be the time that he’d just keep the foot on me, until I drowned in front of Jim. I’d hold my breath, but I never knew—”

“Hey,” Jim’s voice was soft. “Claire, remember what Dr. Kruz said. You’re here. Safe.”

“R-right…” Claire said, grabbing Jim’s hands. She started taking deep breaths holding them, then breathing out again. “I’m here.”

Jim looked up. Claire’s parents were staring at her. They’d seen this before, of course, but Javier still looked like he wanted to murder someone and Ophelia had tears in her eyes. Detective Scott shook his head in dismay while his partner was looking at Claire, with cold, angry eyes that seemed to be seeing something else.

Mary’s eyes were overflowing as she stared at her friend, somehow seeming small next to Jim, despite her armor.

“Claire…” she whispered.

Claire laughed, the sound half a sob. “So, I’d be a _really_ bad friend if I let you do something to get yourself killed, or end up as screwed up as _we_ are.”

“But…” Mary sniffed once, twice. “It’d not _fair!_ You deserve help!”

“And you’ll give it,” Barbara said. “Just not by fighting. We’ve been working out plans to evacuate the town, and I expect Detective Scott and his partner will be helping us, but we can’t tell everyone. That means that you _will_ play a role, say, by helping us safely evacuate your classmates.”

“Evacuate?” Mike asked. “That’s going to be hard to do.”

“We have some ideas…”

“No army,” Jack interrupted Barbara. “No American government outside of the city…”

“Yeah,” Jim said.

“So we keep it local, and get ready for the evacuation. We can do that.” Jack said. “But that doesn’t mean defenseless or leave you alone to fight. After all…” He smiled. “After all, America _is_ the home of the Minutemen…”


	42. Waiting for Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter after this, but here we get to see Claire and Jim, finally getting a chance to rest...

That night, Claire and Jim lay together in Jim’s bed. They’d spend a good deal of time talking, Claire’s mom and Detective Scott talking about how to use various disaster drills to prepare the city for well, disaster. Jack was going to go over the list of veterans living in Arcadia, especially those who had possessed security clearances. Most of them wouldn’t be told specifics, but they would be invited into a civilian “counter-terrorism” team that would be deputized in case of emergency.

It was…

Jim hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, that they could stop Gunmar. Jack talking about what they would need and what an “utter mess” urban fighting was had brought uncomfortable images of his home, burning, into Jim’s mind.

But on the other hand, Gunmar would burn Arcadia whether or not they fought for it.

“I think we broke Mary’s brain,” Claire said. “When it got out about…” She gestured at the two of them, in bed.

“Yeah. Well, at least you told her why, and that our parents trust us to not…” Jim felt himself blush. He’d occasionally wondered if it would be so bad but—

“I don’t know if they do,” Claire said, and Jim’s brain skidded to a halt.

“What?”

“Mom spent an hour today talking to me about protection…” Now Claire’s face was turning red from where she was curled up against Jim.

“I—she _did?”_ Jim did not squeak and that was the story he was sticking with.

“Well, she has a reason.” Claire shook her head. “Mom’s younger than Dr. Lake, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Mom’s 35. I’m 16.” 

Jim blinked. Sure he knew that Ophelia was younger but not that young…

“According to Mom, it made college really difficult.”

Jim shook his head. _No wonder she’s always so organized and wants to control everything. She managed to finish college, with a new_ baby?

“And I thought we had problems with scheduling.” Jim grinned. “But nobody said anything to me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of cour—” Suddenly Jim fell silent, a strange conversation with Blinky coming to mind.

_“Now, Master Jim, many trolls assume that they will have time to prepare for their offspring, that thirty years gestation in the heartstone is more than enough. But it comes faster than they expect and sometimes…_ ”

“Oh God. Blinky. Blinky gave me the _talk._ I thought he was just talking about how Trolls have kids, but he was giving me the _talk.”  He really is my dad…_ And that thought filled Jim with glee.

“What did you say to your mom?” Jim finally asked.

“The same thing I said to _your_ mom when she caught us in bed the first time. I’m not ready.”

Part of Jim was disappointed.  But he understood and a much larger part agreed.  Deal with _that_ at the same time they were dealing with Gunmar and everything else?  Sure movies had the heroes fucking, but they also had the heroes having makeout sessions five feet away from the monster. Jim was comfortably certain none of those actors and actresses had ever tried that in the Darklands. Still…

He bent down and kissed Claire, the kiss going on and one before they broke it off. “I understand,” Jim said. “Besides, even if they’re…”

“Sort of giving permission?” Claire said.

“Yeah, it still feels like cheating, I want to be honest.”

“Oh. So you want to tell Papi that tonight you’re going to—” Claire’s smirk was predatory.

“What? No, I—”

“Because I think NotEnrique would like to film it. Maybe put it on Youtube.”

“I—Oh God, _he would!_ ” Jim said. “He’d put it on and have a commentary track!”

“And a musical theme for your escape!”

“Or my—” Jim started laughing, the image of NotEnrique cheering him as he ran around the living room, Javier in pursuit just filling his mind’s eye. Claire started giggling, then laughing and suddenly Jim just found himself _howling_ with glee, tears pouring down his cheeks at the image.

Hugging Claire he felt something just break in him, a cold core from the Darklands, banished by laughter and joy—no, Joy. He was here, with Claire, with his family, with his friends and what happened after that…

Well, it would happen, but here they were, _today._

And that was enough.

Slowly their laughter subsided into quiet giggling as Jim and Claire nestled into each other.

“We’re both so screwed up,” Claire said softly, her voice lacking its normal edge when talking about that.

Jim understood. “Yeah. We are. But we’re not… Broken, not now, at least.”

“Bent?”

“Like a pretzel, but we can fix that.”

Clare nuzzled Jim, her voice sleepy. “Yeah. We can. Just take it a day at a time…” Her eyes closed, her breath coming naturally as she fell asleep.

_Just a day at a time_ , Jim thought. _Yeah. Claire’s right. Dr. Kruz is right. And I’m right. Just take it a day at a time.  We’re not broken, and we can keep going, no matter what._ They would have to, because Jim had a lot to live for. His mom, Toby, Blinky, all their friends…

And Claire. He looked down, the light of the moon playing over her sleeping face. Her features were relaxed. Untroubled. Jim leaned down, lightly kissed her on the cheek, then closed his own eyes. “Night, Claire,” he said softly.

And with that, he fell asleep, without any nightmares or fears troubling him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ophelia's age is never mentioned, but she and Javier seem a little younger than Barbara and mid-thirties is about right for someone who is ambitious, but who hasn't yet moved beyond local office. Also, it helps explain that great disparity between Claire and Enrique's age.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Trauma my old friend...
> 
> The main conceit here is that Claire managed to get into the Darklands along with Jim, they've been there for six months, during which time the parents found out, and now they're back. But they're back with a ton of mental and emotional issues which are going to make adjusting to life "on top" very, very difficult.


End file.
